So 15 minutes ago I head to the back door to call in one of our cats, who is notoriously difficult to get inside - especially if there's critters to hunt. I see him in the back yard, which was fairly dark, and I open the door for him. As he bolts towards the door, I see something in his mouth, so I attempt to close it, but not before a bursts through and drops a freaking live BAT on the floor. As you might know, cats typically like to play with their prey and tire it out before killing it, and this little guy was exhausted. He flapped around on the floor a couple of times while making a bizarre, rapid clicking sound (like a small socket wrench being quickly twisted). I grabbed him by the wing and tossed him outside to get him away from the cat, went to the garage and got a thick firefighter's glove (didn't want to get bit), then went back and picked him up from the grass to see if he was OK. He was breathing quickly, snarling, and clicking like crazy, but otherwise seemed fine. Right after I snapped this picture, he crawled onto his stomach and took off into the night.
Damn cat...
Damn cat...
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