Bats in the attic, snakes in the cellar

It's all going to hell at Falling Downs. Our cat, Doublewide, is what's known around here as a "Drimmie cat," in honour of a woman who, while too cheap to have her cats fixed, is in line to inherit a substatial wad. For many years she had a steady stream of kittens to donate to locals, and in due course we adopted our share. Alas, some of the dogs we used to have were not pussy-friendly, and we were losing them almost as fast as we adopted them. Doublewide is the lone survivor. She was an awesome mouser in her heyday, and eventually expanded to chipmunks. The summer before we got Big-lips Bruno, she was bringing us chipmunk offerings on a daily basis. Unfortunately, she was seriously traumatized when we introduced the mastiff into her life. It didn't help that Bruno gave every indication he'd like to eat her the first time they met. We didn't see her for about six months, and that winter the chipmunks took over the house. We beat back the invasion, and while it took the better part of a year, Bruno and Doublewide have made their peace. Thanks to the half-dozen spray-cans of expanding insulation foam, we no longer have chipmunks in the house. Instead, we have snakes. That's right! Doublewide has been keen to go down to the cellar for months, and we couldn't figure out why. Today she brought up a baby snake, dead. Obviously, she's been stalking mama snake, but found her a bit daunting as prey. The babies? Not so much. Meanwhile, I suspect the bats are back from their winter caves on the escarpment. Once again, they have returned before I got around to sealing the attic. Hey, I was busy rebuilding a bathroom. Give me a break!