It’s not easy learning how to speak the bat language, but if I’m going to be married to one for the rest of my life I figure I’d better be able to. While I don’t have the hearing range for echolocation I am able to communicate with the elements that depend on wing flapping. (Fenton teases me for having an accent.)
Meanwhile, we got home from the beach to find that Douglas Squirrel had rescued the same kitten from our tree that Kell had rescued weeks earlier. (What is it with that kid???) There was a big write-up in the Daily Domain, and the paper is even planning a follow-up article on the unusual occurrence of a herbivore saving a carnivore.
I’m actually uneasy about this, and I sense that Gran is, too. We know about Mr. Squirrel’s past, and while it happened a long time ago media attention still probably isn’t a good idea.
Hang on. Police sirens are within my hearing range, and I think I just heard one.
