the chase

I was saying goodnight to Shawshank last night when I noticed that both cats were huddled together. They were under one of the spare dining room chairs that serves as a catch-all in my bedroom. Further investigation revealed a wee green treefrog.

Allow me to set the stage. It’s damned near midnight. Everyone in the house is in bed. I’m happily blazed.

AND THERE’S A FUCKING FROG IN THE BEDROOM.

So there I am, in my skivvies because it’s midnight and I should be in bed right now.

I went out into the kitchen and found a small, lidded plastic container. Then, I returned to the bedroom, determined to contain the creature.

And

it’s

gone.

I said my goodnights and tried to find the frog. Chaucer, interested while he can see it but too lazy to hunt, moved on to stare at his food dish, passively because he could see the bottom. Mal is staring at the spot where the frog was, but no longer is.

Do I leave it alone? I mean, it got in, shouldn’t it be able to get out? Are the cats going to die if they eat it? If it stays, there’s a chance it might catch that fly that got in. But am I going to wake up with it clinging to my face? WHAT IF IT CRAWLS ON MY MOUTH WHILE I SLEEP?!

Mal’s focus shifted to the something behind the sewing machine under the vanity. I figured I’d wait and see if he flushed out the frog. It came out a minute or so later and hopped around behind Mal, before it returned to the same spot we started this whole thing.

I gingerly moved the chairs enough to cover the frog with the container. I asked the universe to keep the frog in that spot because this is it.

After some fishing around the room for paper, I slipped an early watercolor under the bucket, followed by the li. Then I threw him out the back door.

Eventually, excitement over, I went to bed. Yay.

Until Mal horked up a hairball at 2 am.

It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m already wondering about a nap.