Here a toad, there a toad…

It was raining on my predawn dog-walk this morning, and the toads were out in force.  Squatting like netsuke or hopping across the shiny pavement of the walkway, they came in sizes from the tip of my pinky to a child’s fist.  Keeping Tosh from snapping at them preoccupied me almost as much as keeping myself from stepping on them.  I sang a soft little song to Tosh, trying unsuccessfully to distract him,

Old MacIntosh had a farm
Woofwoof woofwoof woof
And on this farm he had some toads
Woofwoof woofwoof woof
Here a croak there a croak, everywhere a croak, croak

Tosh is used to us singing silly songs to him, and his long pointy nose methodically scanned the pavement, ready to pounce on a hopping creature.  Only watchfulness and a firm hand on the leash kept him from hunting the little fellows.

We managed to complete our walk with no toad fatalities, I am happy to report.


  1. I remember one time driving up to your house in the Suburban after a very heavy rain. There were toads all over the roads, and I remember joking with Kevin about the whole thing.
    .-= Marie´s last blog ..Behind my Back =-.