Can I kick out my unwanted house guest? ‘This frog’s really wily’
After years without a pet, I seem to have acquired one, accidentally.
It’s not a species I would have selected, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Our household’s new four-legged friend is a frog — an itty-bitty little Pacific tree frog.
He’s taken up residence in a houseplant by the front door, and he’s not interested in leaving.
Must love pets
It’s not that I have a problem with pets.
I’ve adored and cherished many different animals in my life. In fact, my late husband and I met because we both had Shetland sheepdogs.
Some people adore their dogs. Others idolize their cats. And many people are absolutely, certifiably goofy about their pets.
Just take a gander at nearly any website or gift catalog and you’ll find a page or two or 12 showing many different gifts for pets — some with eye-poppingly astronomical prices.
How about a pooch treadmill that can gear up to 20mph? It costs a mere $2,321 on Amazon, I kid you not.
A red plaid leash and matching collar with detachable bow tie retails for $749?
A large, multi-level wooden activity tree for cats is just $1,880 on the same website, or while a handmade wicker bed costs a mere $500.
How to catch a frog
Our frog came free, and he doesn’t require much pampering. That said, he also refuses to leave our house.
You say I should put him back outside? Have you ever tried to trap a frog that doesn’t want to be caught?
Damn things have eyes in the back of their heads, I swear.
This frog’s really wily. He’s way smarter than than the previous frogs who wiggled their way between our front door and the threshold to lurk inside the house briefly.
Them, I caught.
I just sneak up behind an unsuspecting amphibian and drop a small glass ramekin over it.
Then I slide a stiff card under the rim of the ramekin and the frog.
Then, carefully carrying the whole mess, I slowly walk through the pre-opened door.
I set it down on the walkway or near the pond, lift the dish off the card and quickly back away.
I’ve used the same method to relocate small lizards. In fact, I keep a stack of those throw-away mailer ads near the front door to aid in catching critter visitors.
Ah, the joys of living in the woods.
Frog is successful squatter
I’ve only seen our frog once, and yes, I tried my trusty critter-removal technique. It didn’t work.
I could almost hear that crafty frog’s maniacal laughter as he hopped away and slid under the couch, which is about 9 feet long, heavy and boxed in by other furniture.
By the time I moved the couch, the frog could have been enjoying a day trip to San Simeon.
Plus, Frog knows when push meets shove, he can use the ultimate escape — diving through our big front door and heading out the way he must have gotten in. For all I know, maybe the crafty critter commutes.
He seems prefer hanging out in our big, lushly full peace lily plant that’s in the entryway by the front door.
The lily lives in a big, heavy pot, which makes the whole rig almost as impossible to move as the couch
That’s another reason why Frog has been a successful squatter. His new plant home is way too hefty to drag outside for the day, and then drag back in when the night temperatures begin to drop.
Sing, baby, sing
Belying his size, our Frog has a very big voice that he uses intermittently, just often enough to keep me mentally off base.
His occasional chatter reminds us he’s still here. But we’ve stopped even trying to get in the same room with him while he serenades us, because when we try to creep up on him, he goes silent and stays that way. For hours. Or even days.
I wonder. When Frog croaks at us, is he having a rare moment of loneliness? Or is he reminding us that I’m late in watering his plant home?
Frog does have his favorite folks. When our granddaughter Tina and grandson-in-love Jesse visit from Ventura, Frog becomes much more talkative.
He even seems to know when I’m talking to Tina by phone. We swear he wished her a happy Thanksgiving; the timing was just so perfect.
Tina’s a better amphibian mimic than I am, so she and Frog chatter back and forth at each other, having rather lengthy conversations while she tries to slowly sneak toward him.
She continues to try, even though she knows that Frog will only talk if every human in the house is far enough away so they can’t suss out exactly where he’s lurking.
His froggy radar warns him when we’re getting too close.
What should we name our pet?
For now, Tina and I have given up trying to evict our guest pet, and we’re debating about what to name him.
I thought about Jeremiah, but Frog isn’t of the bull variety, and “Joy to the World” is not exactly what he provides. Frogger, because he plays us like a game?
What about that classic vaudevillian cartoon, Michigan J. Frog? No, our frog doesn’t dance and he doesn’t have a top hat or cane.
For a time, I favored Kermit, and Tina was leading toward Fred. My editor Sarah Linn suggested Toadally a Pain in the Butt, which is now Frog’s official title.
If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
But for now, Tina’s latest name suggestion, Frickin’ Frog, seems to work best.
This story was originally published December 1, 2022 at 5:35 AM.
