jabba the hop toad.

At the apartment building, I had a squat and warty neighbor who lived on the first floor. He was a toad that would come out at night and sit on the sidewalk. I think he lived in a drain pipe. He was such a common figure that I named him Jabba the Hop Toad, because he was so fat and gelatinous and, well, toadlike. I said hello to him all the time, and he contentedly ignored me. I never tried to pick him up, because I learned a long time ago that toads will pee on you if you do that. I'm not into toad pee.

Jabba the Hop Toad stopped appearing at some point last fall. I hoped that I was just missing him because he was hidden in the dark or that maybe he was just inside his drain pipe enjoying some juicy bugs with Mrs. Jabba the Hop Toad. But as each night passed without a sign of him, I began to suspect that he'd gone on to that great smelly bog in the sky.

We have frogs at the new house. There's a pond across the street from me, and I hear tiny amphibious Barry Whites out there at night. If it rains, the street itself is covered in tiny brown things that look like leaves until they hop. It's a good thing there haven't been any cops watching as I was trying to avoid hitting them with the car. "I'm not drunk, officer, I'm trying not to run over the froggies."

Last week, I discovered this guy. I thought he was a piece of bark at first.

Now, maybe I just like tiny frogs (and really, who doesn't?), but this little fellow fascinated me. He was very tolerant of me as I circled him, trying to get a good close-up. I haven't seen him since that day, though I check this tree every day. So either he's hanging out somewhere else, or his camouflage is just good.

What I love about this camouflage is that it's mottled just like the tree bark. That's smart thinking, Mr. Frog.

If I do happen to come across him again, I'm going to need a name. I was thinking Barkley, but I would be happy to take suggestions. It doesn't even have to be a pun.