It is a steamy, hot tropical day. Doing the washing is always a pleasant chore, no matter what kind of day it is. Frog, my little green friend lives in my laundry, sneaking into the coolest place he can find. I don’t need to know just where he is to be able to talk to him. With my funny voice I chat away regardless. Sometimes he even answers with a deep throaty croak.
Ping, ping, ping the signal that washing is finished! Off go I into that room where such humble things happen so we can present all spic and span. Continuing my chatty monologue with Frog, I pulled the last of our washing out. From the corner of my eye, I saw it. Then, the most dreadful cacophony of slamming doors, footsteps running, dog barking, all responding to a dreadfully shrill kind of noise.
Ahhhhhh. Suddenly, my senses tell me, the scream is coming from me! Thrusting my arm downwards in abandonment of all logic, I am feeling it. Reverberating through my hand, a frail but rhythmic pulse.
My son’s quick thinking action switches off power and pulls my arm out of the machine. We stand there together with dog stretching up on hind legs, all peering into the machine. Dearest Frog, spread-eagled on the bottom of the tub, bright green skin turning into purple blotches as we watch!
Gently, my son retrieves my lovely friend. Into a bowl of fresh, cool water he drops. Head askew, he watches us as we tenderly splash the cool water over the top of his head. Hours pass.
With aching back and stiffening neck, I watch over Frog. Then, quickly as the batting of an eyelid, up he jumps. Sitting on top of the washing tub, Frog looks at me and croaks. With jubilation I gently touch the top of his little head. We look at each other with a gentle kind of understanding. My funny voice croaks back to Frog my words of joy about his recovery. Off he hops to his secret hideaway and back to my computer I go.
Don’t forget, please leave a comment when ever you would like to. I hope you enjoy my story about Frog and me today.