Since childhood, I've loved picking up a tree frog and letting it walk along my arm or leg. They are so funny when they shift their soft, sticky little feet as they walk around. Of course, when you first pick them up, they might pee on you a bit, since it's a little intimidating to be enclosed in a big monster's hand. We forgive them for that tiny social faux pas.
Yesterday, all that tea I drank working around the house built up and I had to take a bathroom break. I relieved myself and stood up to flush the commode. Just as I pulled the handle down, I saw something dark bobbing on a toilet paper boat. As it started down the drain, two pair of little green legs splayed wildly, trying to get a grip on the wet porcelain slopes.
Thank heavens tree frogs have those sticky pads. He was able to grip good enough to get above the swirling water. When it was done, he gave a huge jump and cleared the toilet by at least three feet, happy, I'm sure, to be safe. I didn't want to touch him at that point - having turned the tables for once and peeded on him - so I opened the window and used a magazine to steer him toward it. He cooperated, turning back to give me one last look of betrayal, and fled onto the front porch, then into the yard. Hey, even tree frogs get thirsty. I don't know how long he had been in the house, but they need to stay moist, and our air-conditioned house provided an inhospitable environment. Bless his little heart. I'm sure he's been immersing himself in a wet spot in the garden all night.
Photo from National Geographic