FROG MANURE

I’m not sure about their exact genus. Some refer to them as, well, we’ll get to it. But you see, virtually every time I step through my front door in the evening, and look up at my porchlight, I see them sitting there; balanced on the top edge of the light cover.

But where was I? Oh, yes. While some may refer to the little green critters as ‘Tree Frogs,’ I call them ‘Porch Frogs.’ Come heat, rain, sleet, or snow, (well, come heat or rain) there are a minimum of two porch frogs ‘hanging out’ on the lip of that black plastic lantern. And while I have never spent a great deal of time looking them in their beady eyes, there is little or no doubt why they frequent this place.

They are here for the bugs which are attracted to the 60 Watt lightbulb which permanently resides within the housing of the porch lamp. And it goes without saying that from time to time one of these slimy, green amphibians shoots out his nasty pink tongue, and hauls in a prized catch of some non-descript six-legged creature.

I happen to be an animal lover of significant proportions. However, however even I have limits. For you see, if it goes in one end, it almost assuredly has to come out the other end. And come out it does. By the time I walk out my front door in the morning, the porch frogs have made their exit, but the proof of their nocturnal visitation is plain for all to behold.

For right there, in front of God and everybody, rests a pile of nasty, black frog manure. A great big splatter pattern as big as a monitor mouse; (and nastier than a real one).

And it occurs to me that some people are like this. They spend copious amounts of time and energy taking advantage of whatever it is we have offer, but when they leave, they leave a big mess in their wake, and one could only wish they had "done their business" elsewhere.

(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 75. By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending. 

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