01 October 2008


...or It’s not that easy being—ew!

Wake up. Walk into bathroom. Lift the lid on the toilet.

Long ago I got in the habit of not only putting the seat down but the lid as well. Not out of any attempt at domestic peace. Mainly from—at the time—having a small bathroom with the toilet right next to the sink and not wanting anything to accidently fall in there.

Lift the lid on the toilet. Staring up at me is a frog—or maybe a toad, I don’t take the time to access—the size of my fist.

Close the lid.

I flush several times and peek. Gone. Still, I leave the house with a heavy weight on the lids of both toilets.

Come home from work. Peek.

It’s back.

What do I do? What do I do?

I check the clean-out outside. The lid is on.

What do I do? What do I do?

I’ll just go ahead and get it out.

There I am with a bucket with a tight fitting lid, a plunger, and a broom. I open the lid.

It seems I have an irrational fear of hopping amphibians that come out of the sewer.

I put the weights back on the toilets and wait until morning.

“How may we help you?”

“I have a frog in my toilet.”

“Please hold on a minute. I’ll have to check about that as I haven’t heard of it before.”


“Sir, I’m sorry. We don’t handle amphibians.”

“Can you recommend somebody?”

“Let me check with my supervisor.”


“No, sir. I’m sorry.”

Maybe you should call yourselves, “a-few-very-specific-types-of-pest control”.

The conversation with the plumber was shorter. And very amusing. For him. I stressed that my biggest concern was to ensure that no other animals would be coming in this way. He said there was nothing he could do.

The rest of the calls were no more helpful.

So, after a trip to the drug store for some latex gloves, I finally did it. The frog—or toad—is out of the house.

But now I’m going to be even more sure to keep the lids closed.

the photographic evidence


Jeff Rients said...

Aw, man. Any living creature in the crapper would freak me out.

Robert said...

According to my amphibiphilic niece, it was a rock toad.