THE NARRATIVE ARC FUR AND FEATHERS COMPETITION | PETS

Ed Wasn’t a Bullfrog, But He Was a Good Friend of Mine

I miss this little face

Ed had neither fur nor feathers, but he was a special pet. My pet toad. If you already think I’m eccentric, this story isn’t going to help things any.

While Ed was, in my opinion, a handsome lad, he was not very interactive, as far as pets go. But he helped me water and prune my flowers every day, and I grew very fond of him.

I even began shopping for toad houses online. Some are quite snazzy.

I’ve always had a special affinity with animals. As a young girl, I was able to ride horses nobody else could ride, be buddies with dogs who snapped at other people. I’m the person other people’s cats always head for, whose dogs will immediately curl up on my feet.

Squirrels run right up to me. I remember a robin who used to accompany me on my daily walks. One lady’s pet parakeet flew to me as I sat on her sofa, and began purposefully hopping up my arm, to sit on my shoulder or peck my eyes out, I’m not sure which. That was a hard one —I’m not a big fan of birds, at least on my person.

They might get in your hair and poop, you know.

And then we have Ed.

It all started one Spring when we had first moved to the lake. As I worked in a flower bed, I noticed a big toad sitting on the concrete steps leading down from our upper patio. He sat quietly, watching me, and scurried away underneath the patio when I spoke to him.

Yes, I spoke to him. I warmly greet every living thing, except for snakes. Snakes are treated to high-pitched screaming, and immediately escape to parts unknown.

Thank God. There are limits to everything. When it comes to animals, this is apparently one of mine.

But every morning, Ed would silently appear out of nowhere. I’d turn around and there he’d be, watching me from his place on the steps. He soon stopped scuttling away when I spoke to him, and he’d stay as long as I was working on my flowers.

He was almost dog-like in his companionship.

As strange as I’m sure it seems, I began looking forward to hanging out with Ed in the mornings. I introduced my husband to Ed, and we regularly exchanged news of Ed sightings. We were always very careful where we stepped, not wanting to end a budding friendship prematurely by a tragic squashing.

We were careful when we mowed, too.

I’m sad to report that I did accidentally scalp one of Ed’s cousins with the push mower one day. It took me a long time to get over it. He didn’t die right away, but one thing is for certain: He was never the same again after his unfortunate lobotomy.

I’m not a fan of reptiles. I know that toads and frogs are amphibians, but the similarity is there. I give lizards a wide berth. We also have a variety of pretty little frogs that lurk around the back patios, sometimes even getting in the house, where, for some reason, we don’t notice them until they turn up dead in the track of the sliding patio door. One tiny guy even hitched a ride inside for the Fall on a plant I brought in to overwinter.

I relocated him pretty fast. No room at the inn.

I actually have a small collection of ceramic frogs — not the cutesy stuff, but pretty little statues and pot ornaments. Still, while I really like fake frogs, I’m not a fan of real ones.

I don’t have any good reason for liking toads and not frogs, but there it is.

Last summer, while checking a large pot of begonias down by the lake to see whether it needed water, I stuck my fingers down into the pot. I felt something rubbery and oddly squishy. A closer look revealed a huge, fat frog camping out in the foliage. Ugh!

I’m still shuddering.

I confess I don’t particularly want to touch toads, either.

Ed hung out with me for two summers. On days when it was scorchingly hot, I’d give him a little mist shower with the hose. He seemed to like that.

I make no apologies — for some unexplainable reason, I adored him. He went missing for a few days and, silly or not, it made both my husband and me sad. Every so often we’d ask each other, “Have you seen Ed?”

One day I went out to look at my flowers beside the patio, and there sat a darling, little bitty toad that looked just like Ed! It lifted my heart. Then, I checked out Ed’s old perch, and lo and behold! There he was, sitting just outside his man cave under the patio! With a cute little girlfriend, no less. So I guess we know what Ed had been up to.

I was thrown over for another woman.

I saw Ed several times after that, rolling around enthusiastically with his lady friend. Later that year, I noticed a proliferation of little toads hopping all around the grass at the edge of the patio. It just made me happy.

Not long after, Ed disappeared for good. Out of habit, I still look around for him when I’m working in the flower beds. I don’t know the life span of a toad, but I suspect it isn’t long.

I’m sure it seems odd, but then again, nothing in my life has ever been ordinary. I understand — I would never have decided one day to go find a toad for a pet. They aren’t especially cuddly, although I would argue some are quite cute. I have no explanation for how I ended up with a pet toad.

But nonetheless, I sure enjoyed the time I had with a little toad named Ed. And I miss him.

— C

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you. Remember that friends come in many different disguises.

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