Several times a day, I race through the house just to lay eyes on this:
They’re the two African dwarf frogs (and a snail) that my mother-in-law presented to Beans when we visited her house a few days ago.
(She had took both me and my husband aside to make sure we didn’t mind first, of course.)
Just so we’re clear, I’m not worried that they’ll escape.
I have no objection to Beans having (pretty much) any kind of pet his little heart desires, and these are especially great since I don’t have to walk them, they only need to eat twice a week and their water supposedly only has to be changed once a year.
Beans is thrilled with his new web-footed friends. He named the frogs Jack and Wack and the snail Tape, and he insists that we carry them in their little tank from his bedside table to the living room every morning and back to his room at bedtime. He covered their tank with tissues last night so they wouldn’t get cold, and he talks to them and shows them some his favorite toys during the day.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
Oh, I’m terrified that they’ll … you know, croak.
A couple of years ago, Grandma brought over some of these little frogs and they all croaked within a couple of days. About 10 of them! I don’t know what, if anything, I did wrong. I followed the instructions to the tee- even going to the pet store to pick up some of those disgusting blood worms (?) that you have to store in the freezer for them to snack on.
I’m just hoping maybe these frogs are of hardier stock.
In the meantime, I’m doing Hot Mama proud by getting all this exercise. Racing up and down stairs to frog-watch has to be burning at least a few calories, right?!