FROG-GONE IT!

Not our frog - picture borrowed from the internet

Many, many moons ago, we owned a tropical fish tank that supported a number of well grown fish, which ultimately had to be dismantled when we moved to Dorset. Everyone found new homes to go to - and they all left home via a cooler box (which had been turned into a warmer box), hopefully to continue to live to a ripe old age.

At one stage in our aquatic adventures, Steve took a fancy for owning a couple of frogs. We thought - and quite rightly so, as it turned out - that they would provide some added interest to an already quite attractive collection of fish.

Well, as often happens, one of the little chaps fell foul of some unknown malfunction and popped his little webbed clogs some two weeks or so after we introduced him to the tank. However, the other was going from strength to strength and causing no end of consternation amongst the fish. He had a habit of nipping chunks out of the floaty tails – which wasn't winning him any friends. He’d also shown a tendency toward looking for a way out – and there are two small cutouts on the tank cover where cables for the air pump and heater pass through. We were of the opinion that the holes were too small for him to negotiate – however, this particular morning’s antics proved us wrong.

The fish tank was, at this stage, in an alcove in our bedroom – and it was lovely to lay in bed and watch them doing their fishy thing. However, upon waking this one morning, I couldn’t see the frog. I looked everywhere in that tank – no sign of Froggy. Hmmn. I looked around the outside of the tank, just in case he’d escaped and was flopped, gasping, in the tiny gap around the edge. Nope. No Froggy.

Time was marching on, so I had to put the lost frog to one side and get on with the necessary of getting everybody ready for work and play school (which shows how long ago this was, as said child is now an adult!).

Later on in the day and having still not found the frog, I was downstairs tending to the laundry and had just come back into the kitchen from the garden. As I walked through the kitchen, I saw a dead leaf (or what I thought was a dead leaf) on the floor. This is not an unusual occurrence with dogs in the house, so I bent down to pick it up and bin it. Two thirds of the way to picking it up, it moved.

Oh, I nearly died a death on the spot. It was the frog. Covered in dust, dog hair, bird seed and feathers, all wrinkled and dried out looking, but there it was struggling frogfully across our kitchen lino. Poor, poor, little chap! But – what to do, what to do? I knew if I plunged him directly into cold water, he might die of the shock and if I tried to produce warm water, it’d probably be too hot. So I ran with my little pyrex bowl to the sitting room where the octagonal fish tank lives (where all the man-eating Barbs do their fishy thing! lol) and quickly scooped a half bowl of fish tank water. It might be foreign water, but at least it was the right temperature.

I’d got a sudden attack of the heeby-jeebies about touching him, so I picked him up gently in a piece of wadded kitchen paper and plopped him into the bowl. He just sat there, motionless. I bet he was thinking “Oh damn it! So near, yet so far!”. After all, he was heading for the back door and freedom. (How did he know?).

In the meanwhile, I'd got a cotton bud and very gently washed some of the bits and pieces off of him. He started to look a bit more like a frog again, after that. Within a couple of minutes, he was starting to come to life and was paddling gently around the bowl.

I didn’t quite know what to do next .. put him back in the tank? Take him to the vet? Sign him up for the Paras? ~shrug~ So I rang Steve (after all, it was his frog!) who suggested I just put him back in the tank for now.

I felt so sorry for him. (Now renamed by the misnomer of “Lucky”). After all, he’d escaped from the tank, fallen down the crack in between the tank and the wall, then fallen from the alcove to the carpeted floor. He’d crawled the length of the bedroom carpet, out onto the landing, down the stairs (which had to have been an experience on its own), traversed the breadth of the dining room carpet (which is a main thoroughfare – its just amazing he didn’t get trodden on by people or dogs) and got halfway down the length of the long, narrow, kitchen floor and to within six feet of freedom. He’d achieved all this without getting eaten by a dog. In truth, he should really have been rewarded with his freedom – but I’m guessing a little one inch aquarium frog isn’t too well equipped for freedom – even if he IS an intrepid explorer. Poor Lucky .. back in solitary. Maybe I should have given him a baseball and catcher’s mitt on the way back into the tank.

As it turned out, we couldn't keep him in our tank, he was a complete Houdini and made several more escape attempts. We eventually rehomed him with a friend who is very experienced with fish, frogs, lizards, spiders, snakes et al. So far as I know, his new home stopped any further adventuring.