Uber Screaming Frog

I was attacked by a tree frog. In my house. Obviously, it thought my house was a tree, one with a very loud screaming woman living in it--I'll get to the shrieking in a minute--and five other very hairy dogs, all making a tremendous hullaballoo. Over a damn tree frog.

First, it happened early in the morning when I'm half-blind, half-asleep, non-caffeineated (thus in a catatonic state), and half-willing to trust in all things familiar to remain familiar. I grabbed the coffee pot to fill it with water from the sink and while moving bowls and stuff from last night out of the way, I noticed this piece of something on the disposal.

Remember the description of my condition above--I was in a non-mental, totally living on automated muscle state of mind. I just assumed that it was food from last night and reached to get rid of it.

I. Touched. Frog. Frogs, if you haven't touched them before, don't feel like food, old, fresh or any condition. It just felt like...frog. Unfortunately, this frog didn't like being touched either and leapt up in fright. Or in anger. Who knows? Frogs are so temperamental. Now, normally, I would have just yipped at a frog jumping up and down in my sink, but remember my morning zombieness. I was not expecting anything a-leaping at me from inside my sink.

I shrieked at this Giant Leaping Slimy Thingie hurling through the air at me.

I took a step back still screaming, eyes bulging at the sight of this Giant Alien Thingie with its mouth opened to devour delicate little me.

It missed my chest by six inches while I continued bellowing, as this Thing with Green Claw-like Tentacles grabbed the air, trying to molest my delectable boobages.

One of my hand was waving the coffee pot in the air while the other was slapping at nothing. My amazing lungs continued this cacophony when this Giant Attacker leapt almost five feet into the air so it could glare me in the eye, looking for another chance to kiss my chaste mouth.

Then gravity pulled it back onto the ground where five Mutant Poms, yelping and barking (because they too were now joining in Mom's excitement), started to scratch my tile floor like very fluffy white Giant Chickens, trying to save mom from this Green Giant that dodged their paws and noses with the expert ease of an oily thief.

By now my brain had come alive and it was registering that it was just a frog. Just a frog! What the hell was it doing in MY SINK? My windows were close, weren't they? Everything's secured, so where did a frog CREEP in from?

And it was leaping all over now because my Cerberus Mutants were having too good a time playing leap-frog with each other and a tree frog. I had to catch that thing, but not with a coffee pot. Definitely not with my hand again. And no, I didn't feel like prying any dead slimy thing from the jaws of Mutant Pomerchickens.

The rest of the morning, which was usually my most peaceful time of the day, turned into a frenzy of activity. I had to chase down my own mutants to put them in their room (the back porch) and then had to run back in to make sure I knew where Intruder Frog was hiding. Next, I had to figure out how to get a frog out of my house without touching it.

A dustpan!

So armed with dustpan and duster, I bravely confronted this Green Visitor and...went, "Shoo...shoo... Shoooooooooo!" I bet this was the first time I ever shooed a frog but it was pretty calm now, despite trying to climb my bathroom wall. I finally managed to cover it with my dustpan. But now what? It wasn't going to just sit there for me to scoop up, was it?

So off I went, looking for a flat surface to slide under the dustpan. I found a plastic placemat (wow, who knew I was this innovative so early in the morning?!) and finally, got the frog onto it while it was trapped.

Breakfast, anyone? :-)

The Frog That Attacked The Author is now free in my backyard, living the rest of its life in fear of the Uber Frog Trapper.

This morning I checked my sink before I did anything. I shuddered at the thought that I could have turned on the disposal yesterday morning and did something nasty to Mr. Frog. I mean, cleaning dog poop is pretty much a nasty job, but I draw the line at scooping frog innards from inside my disposal, 'kay?

Could you imagine my state of being if I had done that, and the disposal started making screaming dying frog noises? You know it would never occur to me in a million years that there was a frog in there. I would never trust that sink again! No, I would never turn the disposal on again! I would have to move!!!

Lesson: Put your hand inside your disposal. Get that damn frog out first. ;-P

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