The Truth About Cats and Dogs in Black and White

Well, some of you have heard about the bat incident. Let me tell you a story. It was a quiet night in Terra Nova National Park, a night much like many others. I cuddled into my bunk all ready for a sound summer's sleep but that is not what was instore for me. At 4:30 am I stirred. Why did I stir, you say? I became increasingly aware of a "ft-ft-ft-ft-ft" sound coming from within my chambers - growing in intensity then fading like a roller coaster ride. Suddenly, a gentle breeze whispered by my face and instantly I pulled the covers over my head. I attempted to deny what I knew to be true. An army of bats had penetrated my room - 3 of them to be exact. Chasing a moth in through the broken flyscreen of my window. I lay contemplating my options. My roomate was asleep and it was the first night her new boyfriend had stayed at our house. Disturb the roomate? Never. There was a warden living within .25 km. Disturb the warden? Never. It seemed too trivial to disturb the warden for a mere 3 bats as I wonder - how many bats would justify a call to the warden? It was now 4:47 am and I badly wanted to return to sleep; this would only happen if I could convince the bats to vacate the premises. I turned on the light. "OH NO! I have blinded the bats!" I screamed silently. I roll from the bed to the floor. Stealth-like, I slither to the door on my stomach all the while releasing muttered calls of distress. I reach up to open the door. I escape. But there is a problem. The bats have taken over my sleeping chambers and I refuse to sleep on the bug infested couch and find bats snuggled in my comfy quarters the next morning. I open the door. The bats fly out. I slip back into the safe quarters of my room and shut the door! But wait? how many bats were there...1, 2,3 and how many escaped? 1,2...suddenly he reveals himself and makes a drive for my head. Not in my hair, I say! I open the door. He's gone. I'm safe at last. But wait, the bats are disoriented by the light. I hear them slamming into walls, furniture, windows. I put aside my herpetological fears and exit the safety of my quarters, shutting the door promptly behind me. Its a war zone. Bats going kamikazee! I open the front door and hide behind it. The bat, now frustrated and lost misses the door and end up intruding on my close quarters. I'm tired, annoyed, downright frazzled. I leave the front door open, hoping they will find refuge in nature. I retreat to the sanctitude of my bottom bunk - trying to ignore the sounds of bat carnage that I would surely have to face in the morning. I slowly fell back to sleep dreaming of what else might crawl in through my front door. But alas, I was safe.