Remembering Frogger-Doo

 

He came to live with us at Christmas time one year. Our Andrew was young--perhaps third grade?--and, oddly, he didn't have a lot on his wish list that year. We had the idea that a small, private pet might be a good idea. So off Honna and I went to Martin's, this gihugic pet store in the next town. We were thinking guinea pig or perhaps hamster. We weren't sure. We wandered into the reptiles and amphibians department and saw this very attractive little frog, perched on a log in his aquarium and reaching out with his fingered hands to grab and consume a cricket. We were done for. Guinea pigs didn't stand a chance.

Andrew was delighted beyond my anticipation. "I got a frog! I got a frog!" he exclaimed. And our new family member was christened Frogger-Doo.

And so began our weekly trips to Martin's to purchase crickets (a dozen at a time in a plastic bag) and every-other-week a teensy-weensy baby mouse, either a "pinky" (a newborn) or a "fuzzy" (one a wee bit older who had a bit of fur sprouting); Frogger-Doo ate crickets daily (and the occasional worm if we were lucky enough to have some rain) and had to have the bimonthly rodent for calcium. The whole family enjoyed that frog; we all would gather at Pinky Time to watch him grab that mousie with his fingers and push it into his wide mouth. 

Over time, however, the novelty paled, though it took longer than one would anticipate. People found The Brady Bunch to be more interesting than feeding time. Andrew's growing social life reduced the Martin's trips to a chore. And I became a bit resentful of needing to go find a parking space near the pet store.

I was working at the Quaker school then, and in his second summer with us, Frogger-Doo became "convinced." He converted from Lutheranism to Quakerism and joined the Middle School Science Department where he thrived. And so did we all.

A Christmas or two later, I received a call from the science teacher. I was no longer working at the school, so I could sense that she was desperate. It seemed that none of the students was in a position to take a classroom animal home for the two-week break. Would it be possible for Frogger-Doo to spend the holidays with us? I knew everyone has the right to come home for Christmas, and quickly agreed. Two weeks, we could do that. But then, the teacher wondered, would we be willing to take Ralph, too? Visualizing a similar frog in a similar aquarium -- perhaps even sharing F-D's quarters -- I agreed. Another mouth to feed? Not a problem, 24 crickets instead of 12, two pinkies rather than one. We could do it. It would be a fun reunion.

Off we went to pick up our former frog and his friend. The science teacher was effusive in her gratitude. We carried our estranged family member in his aquarium out to the car and went back for Ralph.

Uh-oh.

Ralph wasn't another frog.

Oh, no.

His habitat was about four and a half feet long. It took two of us to carry it from the school to the car. And another two of us to get it into the house. It came with a light bulb and cord. To keep Ralph warm.

Ralph, it turned out, was an iguana. A great big lizard! Who didn't eat crickets and pinkies but rather lettuce and cantaloupe. 

Our daughter, oddly, was enchanted. She asked if he could share her room; we quickly and gladly agreed. And over that holiday, she helped him increase his limited diet, trying this and that from our kitchen. Our many visitors over the holidays needed to meet him. We laughed a lot at our mistaken assumption.

And then Ralph and Frogger-Doo returned to the Middle School and were never heard from again.