I was minding my own business, doing my homework at the big table in the dining room, when I saw something hop out of the corner of my eye. Wait - hop? I turned to find a quarter-sized frog cornering himself where the two back walls meet. I started hearing the frogs a few weeks back, when the weather went from very cold to rainy, and once the sun sets, the chorus of their ribbits outside is like a powerful car alarm. But this little frog looked terribly lost. His legs were covered in lint.
This little frog taught me something about myself: I am squeamish and make high pitched sounds when small creatures enter the place where I live. I knew I wanted him out, and I had a hunch he was looking for the door. But I really didn't want to touch him. What else am I supposed to do? I tried stomping my feet and clapping hands, but every time I got near, he stopped moving and played dead. Exasperated, I took a recyclable container and tried to trap him inside, thinking he'd cling to the side of it and I could carry him over the threshold to meet his froggy friends. But I soon realized that his legs were too furry with lint to properly stick to anything. This just proved the importance of getting him outside!
In the end, I had to nudge him about six feet across the floor with the tupperware, edging him along and yipping aloud every time he actually hopped. It always took me off guard, although I expected him to hop. At last we got to the door. When I opened it, he just sat there, still several inches too short to clear the ledge.
"Come on!" I yelped. "You're so close!" But the darn frog wouldn't move. He just stared straight ahead. I considered walking away and leaving him be for a moment, but then it occurred to me that he might be tempted to turn around and hop into the laundry room, and I really, really didn't want that. And then I had a stroke of genius: in one swift move, I picked up the rug he was sitting on and flung him out through the door.
Problem solved, right? Well, maybe, if I hadn't decided then to grab my camera and follow him outside, shutting the door behind me. What I didn't realize is that the door was still locked. Yes, the nefarious little bugger had actually lured me right out of the house!
As it happens, I still had my keys in my pocket, so the frog did not win. I did.