Blogger as Toad Herd

Posted on July 24, 2010


Perhaps the attraction of the toads to the garden near my house means they either recognize me as a relative (older Americans can look rather toady) or that they know from the denizens of years past I provide little areas of broken pottery and dense undergrowth (aka weeds) for their benefit.  Either way, they have to get past my toad-hunting Jack Russell Terrier (JRT).

Incidents between toad and terrier tend to happen in the middle of the night when toad positions himself/herself near the porch light to ensnare insects and when the JRT takes her mid-night “run.”  I, a great friend and defender of the transient toads (they all have green cards), am half awake. As a result, one evening I stepped on a huge hopper in my bare feet.  I think it survived but I almost died of it.  And I had to rouse myself from my trauma to ensure that the wounded toad made ts safely off the porch without meeting the terrorist terrier head on.

After a summer of this, I am ready for the safety of shoes.  But it does keep the blood flowing through the veins and the brain alert.  However, in the dementia of later life, I may find myself talking to a toad and a terrier.  I just know them better than a lot of people and they have been there for me.  I hope my friends will not be disappointed.  Best for me, they will be so put off they will not want to take the time to annoy me with: “There are no toads or terriers here.”  And I will say: “I KNOW that. But in any case, I wasn’t talking to you, was I”!

The face of one who could never touch a toad

©On My Watch…the writings of SamHenry.  Registration Pending.

Posted in: ANIMALS, ESSAY, HUMOR, WRITINGS