Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

cage containing, yes, a bat. A tiny red one with a crinkled forehead, big shell-like ears, an upturned nose.
    “You the doctor for wild animals?” the man asked. He raised the cage for me to see. “My cat brought it in last night.”
    I sighed inwardly at this variation on a tale I heard too often. Somebody’s free-roaming cat was always dragging in something. I peered into the cage. The bat blinked.
    “Okay, come with me and I’ll look it over,” I said.
    “Can I watch?” Dr. Campbell asked.
    “Well, sure, if you want to.” A half-formed thought: was he checking me out because of what happened yesterday?
    I led the way through the waiting area and across the hall to an exam room. The man with the bat chattered, telling me he’d taken time off work and driven in from Herndon after the county animal shelter gave him my name. He was young, with a brown crewcut, and wore some kind of uniform, denim pants and a gray work shirt with the name Pete embroidered in blue on the pocket.
    While Luke Campbell held the cage in place on the exam table, I opened the door just wide enough to snake in a hand. Alarmed by the touch of my fingers, the bat scrabbled around on the cage bottom, tearing the newspaper lining, and began to unfold its wings. I caught both its thumbs to stop that, and removed the animal from the cage. The little body was warm in my palm and vibrated with the frantic pulsing of its heart.
    Acutely aware of Dr. Campbell watching me, I riffled through the rusty-red fur looking for blood or bite wounds. I found none. Next I gently extended the leathery membrane of each wing.
    The man talked nonstop and with high good humor about his cat running in the back door with the flapping bat in its mouth, about the hour-long effort by both cat and man to recapture the bat after it got loose in the house, about the damage done while this was going on. He didn’t seem to notice that neither Dr. Campbell nor I was the least bit amused. My boss had developed a pronounced scowl.
    “I think this little girl’s just shaken up from being caught,” I said. When I released the left wing it snapped back against the bat’s body with a small whap . “If you’ve had her since last night, she’s probably weak from hunger and dehydration by now.”
    He drew back, looking offended. “Well, I don’t know what to feed a bat. You tell me what to give him, I’ll see he gets fed.”
    “You won’t have to worry about it. We’ll take care of it.”
    “Hey, wait a minute. I’m gonna keep it. Just tell me what to feed it.”
    I glanced at Dr. Campbell, who seemed about to speak but decided against it.
    “You want to keep a bat as a pet?” I asked the man.
    “Well, yeah, why not? Don’t worry about my cat getting it. I’ll keep it in a cage all the time.”
    If I wasn’t careful, I was going to say something truly memorable. “Mister—” I didn’t know his last name. “Pete,” I began again. “You can’t keep a bat as a pet. It’s illegal, for one thing, because you’re not a licensed wildlife rehabilitator. And you couldn’t take care of it properly.”
    He was getting impatient. “Yeah, I can.”
    He put out a hand for the bat but I held it out of reach. Red-faced, he dropped his arm.
    Time for the heavy weaponry. “Bats carry rabies. You’d never know when it might bite you. And after you’re bitten, you’d have to undergo a long series of very painful injections, which still might not prevent onset of the disease. If you developed rabies, you’d die. There’s no cure.”
    His face had gone from red to white.
    “By the way,” I added, “is your cat up to date on its rabies vaccine?”
    His head bobbed. “Oh, yeah, I get him his shots on time.”
    “Good. But you’d better examine him for bites, and watch him for any signs of illness.” I opened the door with my free hand. “We’ll take care of the bat. And, you know, you really should keep your cat indoors, for its own safety.”
    He started to protest that, but shut his mouth again. He grabbed the cage Dr. Campbell held out and left with a backward glance at the bat, a look that mixed longing and fear.
    “Good grief,” I muttered when he was gone.
    Dr. Campbell, to my relief, burst out laughing.
    “Did I overdo it?” I said, starting to laugh myself. “Somebody’s bound to tell him I lied about the rabies shots. If he knew it’s only two injections now, he’d probably be willing to risk it.”
    “You got rid of the jerk,