I have a new housemate. I can’t tell if it’s male or female, so I’m calling it Pat.
Meet Pat, the toad that has taken up residence in my outdoor garbage bin.
I took a photo the first time I noticed Pat in the bin. It was shy and refused to look at me:
To make Pat feel more safe with me, I talked to it, told it that it didn’t have to worry that I liked frogs better than toads because based on what I had learned from the children’s book, Frog and Toad Are Friends, Toad was the more serious and uptight of the duo. “Just like me, Pat,” I said. “Just like me.”
A couple of hours later I checked the bin, and, as you can see, Pat must have been feeling a bit safer. Pat no longer had its back to me and had hopped toward the bin opening.
But THEN, Pat must have overheard a report on the National Geographic Channel that revealed that it could become extinct in the next hundred years due to climate change. Toads can’t bear much heat which may explain why Pat was in the garbage bin in the first place. The next time I opened the bin door, Pat had cleverly camouflaged itself.
I looked up the symbolic meaning of a toad appearing in one’s life and shared with Pat that its appearance in my life could mean many things:
- Pat is telling me to tread lightly in making decisions right now. I need to pause and wait. Go slowly, go carefully. Hop gently.
- Pat is suggesting that perhaps it is time for me to “go camouflage” in what I’m doing right now. Be silent about it.
- Pat is revealing that it has nearly 360-degree vision. So it is time for me to watch everything.
- Pat’s small body is a reminder that even though I have a small body I have a very loud voice. I must be careful how I use it, but for Pat’s sake, I must use it. Don’t underestimate the power of your words. But speak loudly!
- Pat is a symbol of transformation. Anything I do right now in camouflage and hiding is going to contribute to the greatness of the transformation I’m undergoing right now.
Pat was so grateful to be such a powerful presence in my life that the next time I opened the bin door, Pat had come out of hiding. Pat was thirsty and didn’t want to croak, so asked for some water, but not too much because Pat was trying to be frogal.
Or so I was toad.
I first spied Pat in my garbage bin last Friday morning, but thinking back, Pat may have been hopping about in my front yard for a while. I recall almost accidentally running my push mower over it two weekends ago.
Ashley, the neighbor across from me, tells me that Pat had lived in her yard until a couple of weeks ago. Interestingly, this is about the time that Mike, the neighbor who lives two doors down from Ashley, told me this: “Walking home from your house last night in the dark (he had come over for a beer as a thank you for helping me to schlep a birthday gift for Adrienne a month earlier), I stepped on something squishy. I think it was a toad. I looked, but didn’t see anything.”
Yesterday morning, I told Mike about Pat taking up residence in my garbage bin. Mike responded, “Is Pat walking with a limp?”
“Can’t tell, Mike,” I responded. “After I first saw Pat, I tried to move it back into the front yard because I thought it was stuck in the garbage bin. An hour later, I opened the bin, and there was Pat in the back not looking at me. Pat may be in shock. I left out a little pool of water.”
So Pat may have survived a traumatic injury. I’ll wouldn’t be hoppy about that, either.
Fifteen minutes ago, I got a flashlight and stepped outside to pick up my Washington Post. I opened the door to my garbage bin and PAT WASN’T THERE! Not even in camouflage. This is the first time since I first spied Pat that it hasn’t been there.
Yes, Pat could have a night job or is out at some bar, hip-hopping, but my heart kinda sank when I didn’t see Pat. Every morning since last Friday, Pat has been there. Pat didn’t even leave a note.
PAT UPDATE: I just took Adrienne to the Metro and checked the bin and PAT WAS BACK! Adrienne thought that Pat might have a night job, and indeed Pat does — unloading stock at the local Toadal Wine store. That probably explains the tiny corkscrew near the water container. If Pat is imbibing, I’m certain it is for medicinal purposes.
Pat has been in my backyard for two nights now. Roxie, my 60 lb mutt, even left it alone with a very respectful sniff. Check your bin; I think Pat might come back.
Ashley — welcome to Spark and Spitfire. So glad to see your perspective here.
Pat did come back. It’s still there. Here I thought it had a night job, but it’s really in your yard. I wonder what’s over in YOUR yard that isn’t in mine. Doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that Roxie is respecting it.
I now have a theory about Pat’s mishap with Mike. Pat may have been crossing from my yard to yours the very moment Mike was walking home. I’m hoping that I can find a tiny safety vest with a reflection strip and/or one of those coal miner hats with a light.
WOW! Powerful symbol! I am in the land of frogs and toads, but haven’t seen any! Maybe I’m not looking closely enough. Yours seems to be calling me to pay closer attention!
Oh Sharie, your tale about Pat is toadally ribetting! I really enjoyed reading about Pat’s adventures and your puns throughout. I’m looking forward to hearing more about Pat. And, please let me know if Pat hopped into your little pail of water.
Glad you liked reading about Pat’s adventures. Ashley emailed me about five minutes ago and reminded me that Pat shows up in her BACKyard, not her FRONTyard, which is just across the way. In toad measurements, Ashley’s backyard is about TEN miles away! Does Pat call a TOAD truck?!
Delightful, and I know of no one else who would look up online the significance of a toad appearing in her life! Love it. So Pat is a sign of transformation in your life! I guess you need to be careful not to kiss Pat, or is it just frogs that become princes after a kiss? Just in case. Adrienne might not like it if Pat were to turn into a princess! Love your attentiveness to detail–guess that’s what makes for such good writing, here and everywhere you set your voice to print.
Thank you, Carol. Beth was the friend who pointed me to the spiritual significance of a reptile (and any animal) appearing in one’s life. One year, she gifted me with this book: https://www.amazon.com/Animal-Speak-Spiritual-Magical-Powers-Creatures/dp/0875420281/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1535481638&sr=8-1&keywords=animal+speaks+by+ted+andrews&dpID=51s%252B0ZP77lL&preST=SY344_BO1,204,203,200_QL70&dpSrc=srch
This book includes a section on reptiles with a special sub-section on frogs, but NOT ON TOADS! So I did go online for more specific information.
Out of curiosity, I googled “poetry and toads” and found this quote from the poet, Marianne Moore: “Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.” I’m not sure I understand what Moore means, do you?
Fascinating book from Beth! I’m not sure about Moore’s quote either, but my guess would be that “real toads” maybe has something to do with genuineness in poetry–genuine emotions, genuine experience, etc.?