So last night I take the *FLB out for his evening peepee. I didn't even slip on my shoes, just strolled outside in my socks. Didn't even turn on the outside light; my neighbor's outside light was on and light shined through my storm door glass. I have to admit I felt a little nervous stepping in some shadowy places. All the recent heebie-jeebie blogging has kept me in a rather agitated state - twitching now and then, feeling "things" in my hair, brushing my shoulder (what was that?). I decided to quit being a baby and just take the damn dog out and not think about critters.
After his initial marking, the *FLB insisted on walking past the edge of light and to the line of grass along our fence. I walked gingerly - looking carefully where I stepped and feeling foolish about it. He dragged me all the way there, then stood on the pavement and stuck his nose in the grass. That was going to accomplish nothing. I "encouraged" him to step into the grass but he ignored me. I became impatient and pulled him back to the patio telling him out loud, "No way, mister, am I standing in the dark so you can sniff the grass while standing on the pavement." We walked back to my patio, I opened my back door, hustled Harley inside, and something skittered across my laundry room floor.
"Lizard!" I squealed.
Harley was skittering across the floor after the lizard-thing and I couldn't see around him to see what he was chasing. I wasn't too concerned; I've had lizards (those little gecko lizards) get in the house before. Harley always hunts them down and catches them. It's his own life insurance policy. And it fits with the 11th Commandment:
THOU SHALT NOT COME INTO MY HOUSE IF THOU IS A BUG OR SMALL CRITTER. THOU SHALT LIVE OUTSIDE WHERE THOU BELONGEST AND WILL BE LEFT ALONEST. IN MY HOUSE THOU ART FAIR GAME AND WILL BE HUNTED AND KILLED.So I encouraged Harley, "Get the lizard!", but then I saw it. It was a small brown tree frog.
SCARY MUSIC PLAYS....I pulled Harley away; thank goodness he was still leashed. The frog looked unharmed and I really wanted him back outside. I don't like how they jump and I don't like their little sucker feet. Tree frogs don't hop like toads Toads hop and move a few inches here or there. Tree frogs JUMP 4 or 5 FEET in the air.
One time a tree frog jumped through our front door - well not THROUGH the front door - but my brother opened the door and the tree frog jumped through the open front door - and the entire family (except for my father who was watching TV in his recliner - erupted in shouting and screaming as the tree frog jumped down the hallway and around the dining room. The tree frog jumped from the floor onto my dad's HEAD and then hopped onto the living room wall with 4 kids and a beagle chasing him. We actually chased that frog back out the front door before my dad even realized what happened.
So...back to last night....I stepped over the frog and tried to shoo him out the back door but he jumped up on the door, then jumped back into the room. I screeched like a banshee - I thought the little sucker was going to jump on ME. He jumped onto the wall behind the door. He was hanging on the extra-long leash that hangs behind the door and I made one more attempt to get him out by removing the leash with him on it. He jumped again.
That must be when I peed my pants.
I was fed up and decided he had broken the 11th commandment. I unleashed Harley and said, "There he is, you can have him." And that *FLB looked all over the wall and couldn't see him! I had to practically take his face and point it at the frog! What's up with that? He can see a cat 300 yards down the street!
So the *FLB jumped up and grabbed the frog off the wall, but then he dropped it on the floor and it started hopping all around the room again. I screamed some more, but this time I added some moon-dancing and ultra-studio-54-twitch moves, too. Harley grabbed the frog again and finally took him into the kitchen to "play" with him.
Now don't get all "the poor frog" on me. I did the best I could. If his little sucker-feet had touched me I wouldn't be here blogging to you today. I did feel bad because Harley played with him a LONG time. A really LONG time. I finally couldn't listen to him anymore and went to bed. I even felt guilty.
This morning I looked for the ... remains...but Harley was guarding it. I said a quick prayer that the little frog was dead and hadn't suffered too much. No, I didn't really, but it sounds nice to say. I knew I'd find him in the afternoon and give him a proper burial - wrapped in a thick wad of paper towels and scrunched into the trash can.
I took Harley for his morning walk.
We were returning from our walk and came around the corner of our building when Harley smelled or spotted something. He was acting aggressive so my first guess was a cat. It's DARK when we take our walk and I carry a flashlight. I haven't forgotten that a green-and-brown snake lives under my septic-bucket. And I don't want to step on anything living or dead. So I pointed my flashlight where Harley was straining to go. I saw something....gray.......an armadillo. eewww. He standing over by the septic-bucket-snake-house. Harley went ballistic - barking and pulling and twisting on the end of his leash. The armadillo looked at us for a couple seconds (another big eewww) then hurried up the septic tank hill and into the brush.
*FLB = freakin' little bastard