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Okay, so I was thinking about this rather unfortunate incident the other day. I figured I would write about it. It’s supposed to be therapeutic right?

When I was 9 years old, my landlord’s kids brought home a bunch of frogs from the lake that they had camped at during the weekend. I really don’t know why they brought them home. They had no plans of keeping them. Their parents were quite mean and wouldn’t dream of such a thing. As far as I know, most of them went over to the river and were let go. But a few days later, while I was playing in the yard, I happened to see something jump in the grass. I ran over to where I thought I had seen movement. Much to my amazement, there was a frog in the grass in the middle of the city.

I took the frog in the house and asked my mother if it was okay if I keep it. She was a little hesitant, but didn’t say no too often when it came to me and animals. I could tell many stories of all the different animals I brought home over the years.

I grabbed an old margarine container, found a rock, filled the container with a little water, and wallah! I had my very own frog home. Now an animal isn’t a pet until you come up with a creative name for it. So I thought long and hard and finally came up with one that fit…Frogger. I was very original, I know.

Well Frogger and I got along splendidly for a few months. I would make sure he was fed and had fresh water. I even took him out of his “house” once in a while so he could have some “exercise“. It was on one these occasions, that the unspeakable happened.

You see I decided to let Frogger out for a bit to stretch his legs. I placed him on the arm of the chair and began to dance around. To this day, I can’t remember if there was music on or if it was all in my head. But regardless, it was a tragedy ready to happen. As I was dancing around, I did a little spin and lost my balance. I stuck my arm out as I came down to catch myself…right on the arm of the chair. With fear and anguish filling my heart, I lifted up my hand to reveal my buddy Frogger-with his insides hanging on the outside of his mouth. I was mortified! I was devastated! I had just killed my little amphibian buddy!

I ran to my mother and told her what happened, tears filling my eyes. She took me in her arms and gave me a big hug. Normally this wasn’t her typical reaction, but this time she knew I was sorry enough. We found a little shoe box, wrapped him some toilet paper and buried behind the bushes that were in front of our house. My poor little Frogger. I sure do miss that little frog, and I am sorry for his untimely demise.

RIP Frogger

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