You've probably heard: "You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince." That may be true, but I've already met my prince, so I'm not interested in kissing frogs. That's why it came as quite a shock the other night when I walked out of my front door and a frog landed on my face.
After performing several notes of operatic quality and volume, I realized that the cold, slithery, and yet sticky thing on my face was one of our resident Cuban treefrogs. Since I had been carrying newspaper to the recycling bin, the frog ended up on the newspaper.
We looked at each other, said a fond farewell, and I deposited the frog in the ferns by the door. The frog and I were none the worse for the encounter, but I'm not sure if my husband and the cats have yet recovered . . .