Mr Frog

At our property in Qld I had a bathroom in the stables, except that I had to share it with a beautiful green tree frog as big as my fist who lived in the toilet. He was perfectly happy there, because the toilet got its water from the rainwater tank, so it was as close to the frog’s natural environment as possible, and anyway we just didn’t have the heart to move him. The usual procedure was to find the frog before you sat down, wet your hands to protect his skin and carefully place him in the bathroom sink. One day my father came into the shed after a few beers and working out in the sun planting some much needed trees in one of the paddocks. He proceeded to the toilet, but all of a sudden I heard him swear, and suddenly bolt out of the bathroom at a rate of knots, muttering under his breath with his pants in one hand as he desperately tried to keep them from falling down around his ankles. I stood there wondering what the heck was going on, until I caught his words, and I heard him say ‘frog’ ‘flushed toilet’ ‘lost’ and then I caught on. I quickly ran with him around the back of the shed, until we came to the grate where the water was, only to see my father snatch it up and start frantically searching with one hand. Finally, he pulled out a rather startled-looking frog, and breathlessly said;

‘I forgot the little sod was in the toilet and flushed him!’