How to Train Your Human

"What is that smell?" the search began while I happily snored in an armpit. "Did they pee on the couch?" my moms asked in surprise and dismay, "maybe on a blanket? On one of their beds?" The quest continued.  picture fumes rising off me The sniffing around the room accelerated until the realization, "Oh no... it's Shyla..." My humans were nauseous at this point, my stench was so great. Mr Bacchus piddles on my head sometimes when I'm distracted by amazing odors in the yard.  eau de Mr Bacchus? Suddenly, I was transported to the bathtub.  is this really necessary? I stood miserably while water touched me.  this is better Once the terribleness was over, I was wrapped in a comfy towel and finished drying in the sunshine.  

THACK! flap flap My ears perked up. flap flap My humans sat up in bed. flap flap flap We peered toward the dark balcony. First up at the trees, and then down at a tiny, dazed, bat with pale fur and shiny little eyes. Quickly, we shut off more lights to help the terrified creature get it's bearing. My days of walking in the canyon only on weekends have been replaced by living on the edge of one. Multiple times a day we rush around sniffing the pee mail left for us by gophers, coyotes, and king snakes. Birds chatter and soar overhead. Our flowered tree is trying to single-handedly save the world's bees. are you still out there, little one? The next day, the Mexican free-tailed bat had returned home.  Project Wildlife happily accepted our cupcakes anyway.