House Visitor: The Count

We don't know exactly when our little guest had snuck into our home. The tell-tale sign of his presence in our home was a menacing continuous screech when someone turned on the bathroom light at night. That person turned out to be mom. And as always, she accompanied that screeching with her own brand of screeching! That recognisable screech that has a special tumbre to it which is partly due to a quivering epiglotis.

Again, our security marshal was of no help. He's practically 24/7 on the premise, yet he did not suspect a new visitor was amidst us. I would suggest that we consider getting a new security marshal or at least get the present one on a motivational and fitness regime. He has all the requisites but is just lacking the skills/motivation to use them. Take a look at him and you would agree with me.

Our security marshal

Well, on with the story. From the screeching, we all thought our guest was a rat or a tree shrew. But what we discovered shocked us all! Our visitor was.... The Count Dracula!

The Count: "I count slowly, slowly, slowly getting faster... 

1! 2! 3! 4! 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4"

Noooo... not THAT Count! Our little Count was more interested in blood (or well, it could be fruits too... We didn't get acquainted long enough to know his meal preferences). He really looked the part, to be sure.

Home visitor - the Count - in a daze after a late night eviction

If you're not yet convinced he's a batty old guest, here's a full-length shot of our friend.

The Count - shiny brown fur, 5 digits on his hind appendages

When we got him outdoors, he gave a hearty bite on dad's finger through the plastic bag used to scoop him up from his humble abode. It was then that we realised that this creature of the night could be supernatural (or just very pissed at being dragged out into the flourescent-lighted porch). At first, he was wiggling so violently that he fell onto the cement driveway. He lay there for quite some time, heaving at first (due to shock) and then looking very sleepily around. He could not move. He could not fly away. (Bats can't take off on flat ground)

We had to put him on a wall before he could get his bearings and after a few minutes, took off into the night air. Never to be seen again (yet).

The Count - I'm getting my bearings... Snarl!

Upon closer deliberation of the bathroom design, the suspected route of entry was identified: air vents. Time to board up those ventilation slits - to avoid further visitations by all kinds of animals!