I could see a pet bat.
I would like to accidently let it out and I would sit in a lawn chair moved over right to the edge of the property line, with my "Music to Clog By" turned up full blast. I would eat chocolates and sip champagne and watch the neighbours try to run away from it, batting at it with their hands and screaming. Then, when it would finally latch onto one of their necks I would look up and try to call it home. I would say "Murgenheimer Muuuuurgenheeeeeiiiiimer. Come here Murgeheimer. Stop bothering the neighbours now." But of course, my bat would not come.
Partly because I would have trained it to ignore me but mainly because it's name would not be "Mergenheimer."