Wildlife At Home

Last night, I pulled into the driveway around 10:00 p.m. and saw a fat animal sitting near my garage. It was the same size and shape as my cat, fondly known as The Fat. As I turned on my high-beams, I saw the ring-tailed intruder hightail it up the nearest tree. Aha, a raccoon! I parked my car in the garage and gingerly stepped around my car, telling the raccoon to stay up in the tree the whole time.

This morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move on the floor of the family room, something that was too small to be feline. I sat very still and watched my cats watching a damn frog cavort through my house. Felonious felines! I hate frogs, so I screamed, like any normal girl would do. The housekeeper was here, and I yelled for her, too (in Spanish). She came running downstairs but stopped dead in her tracks when I said ” ¡Hay una rana en la sala! (There’s a frog in the family room.)” She is terrified of frogs and lizards. Great … picture two grown women backing away from each other and the little amphibian in abject fear. Like Scooby and Shaggy, we split in two different directions — one running for a broom and the other for a rag. The housekeeper threw a damp rag over the frog and then swept him right out of the house. Froggy is somewhere out on the lanai.

So, blog friends, what is the meaning of all this wildlife around me now? Anyone willing to take a psychic stab at this chain of events??

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