Actually, it’s not a toad…it’s a frog.  We have the noisiest little frog living in our house.  Yup, you read that right.  He is in our house.  For the past several weeks we have been annoyed by the vocalizations of what turned out to be a tiny little frog.  Now, if you remember, when we opened the pool I dipped 9 frogs out of there.  I relocated them to another yard…yes I know not very friendly, but trust me when I say that the neighbor’s yard that I relocated them to is not very friendly either.  I thought the problem was solved.  Then, came the croaking.  As soon as the sun sets he begins.  I looked high and low for him.  Finally I found the little bugger.  Now I am going to try to explain where he lives.  There is a hole where the brick and the vinyl siding meet.  The hole is no larger than a penny.  I tracked him by his singing.  When I approached the area where it seemed he was hiding I finally saw him duck back into the hole.  Inside the house…between the outside wall and the siding.

I waited patiently for him to re-appear.  Okay, not so much patiently as get  your little ass out here, but still I waited.   In the interim, Boppy came out and pointed out that two other mouthy little frogs were poolside.  I went into the house and grabbed a Daisy sour cream container and lid and the net from the pool and off I went…frog hunting. 

It is pretty dark at 8:30p.m. but I still managed to find the first little frog (and I mean little, they were perhaps 3 inches long) and cover him with the net.  Then I got down on my all fours and placed the container over the little guy (or gal).  Then I carefully slipped the lid underneath the container, thus trapping the frog.  Just to be sure, I shook the container (my daughter about had a cow) and sure enough he was in there.  I then carried his baritone self to the fence and unceremoniously dumped his ass over the fence.  I went back for the second one.  I found him near the pool ladder and scooped him up, just like I had his friend.  Then I went after my primary concern.

I waited and waited for the little m’er f’er to stick his head out of his hidey hole.  He finally did.  I went in with my sour cream container, but no net.  It wouldn’t fit in the tiny little hole he was in.  As soon as I touched him with the container he ducked back in.  Then I had to wait…again.  Pretty much the whole thing was wait, touch, repeat.  Meanwhile, I am cursing like a sailor on leave.  I have called this frog every name in the book.   He is not impressed.  He sticks his head out, I get my container, I touch him, he pulls back into his hidey hole.  Eventually, I gave up.  Well, it was more like Boppy pulled me away for dinner.

I will catch him.  He has to come out eventually.  You see I have never tolerated repetitive noises.  It is one of my little peeves.  I don’t like drumming fingers, or whistling aimlessly…It makes me want to kill something.  I have to admit, I seriously thought about ways to kill a frog last night.  My conscience can bother me later.  You have no idea how loud this frog is…for a tiny little frog he puts out a great deal of noise.  I can’t promise his demise won’t happen,  but I will attempt to relocate him first.  I figure they are around the pool for a reason.  Obviously, they like the water.  So I figure eventually he will have to come out to re-wet himself…then he’s mine (add maniacal laughter here).  My life is being dictated by a life form that is smaller than an egg.  So be it…it is what it is.  He is bugging me.  I am larger than he.  I will win!  Okay, I may not win, but I will make sure the frog doesn’t either.  If I have to be bugged by him…he will be bugged by me.  Tonight at sunset I will be sitting in my deck chair, sour cream container in hand, watching for the little creep to peek out…net be damned I’m going after him with my hands.   He will be mine…Oh yes, he will be mine!

 

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