Mrs. Toad

Every night when I step out the back door into the dark I look carefully before I put my foot down on the doorstep. Why? Well, the first three or four times that I boldly stepped forth, my foot landed on something soft and plump, an American Toad, sitting there enjoying the cold air seeping out from our air conditioning along the small crack at the bottom of the door.

Remember that the Toad is sitting outside in the dark. Now I’m no naturalist and I wouldn’t have known it was an American Toad if one of our Golden Retrievers hadn’t picked it up and put it back down immediately. If dogs could spit I think that’s what the dog was doing. American Toads give off a nasty sweat when threatened. That is exactly what Mrs. Toad does anytime anyone threatens to get to close to her; there is an immediate secretion of bufotoxin, which while poisonous is merely a skin irritant that says, “Don’t get close,” “Stay away,” and all the time she bemoans the fact that nobody likes her and she has no friends. Don’t try. You won’t get close, and it will be your fault for not being very Christian.

Would it surprise you to discover that she is short and fat and even though she has no warts she is warty in appearance? And very like Mr. Toad of Toad Hall, she is affluent, very used to luxury, and will go to great lengths to get her own way. Eventually she disappears from the doorstep blaming others for her refusal to get in the door. Where does she go? Probably to sit on the doorstep of another fellowship she won’t enter.

Even though I like Toads I have discovered that you can’t help them, the best you can do is not accidentally step on them.