In 2007 I wound up in the hospital. It was a crazy time and I needed my head examined. I called a friend and co-worker and asked him if he’d feed my cat while I was away. There was a spare key under the porch. He was glad to do it but I forgot to tell him that you had to make sure the door was shut when you shut it. You had to pull it until it clicked. When I returned home it was raining in my brain it was raining in the world and the door was wide open, blown open by the wind. I thought my cat was gone forever but when I stepped across the threshold there she was, looking at me like a curious stranger. I also found a dead bat next to my bed. What kind of Wild Kingdom episode had transpired in my depressing little rooms? The bat’s wings had been chewed off and its little brown body was partially eaten. The head was intact. I called Animal Control to have it tested for rabies. They instructed me to put the remains in a plastic bag and store them in the freezer until the next day. So I spent the night with a bat’s head in my freezer, telling cryogenic jokes to myself.
Eventually, the bat’s brain tested clean. Mine did not.