Facinating Frogs

I don't know why I like frogs, I just do. They are ugly. They have very small brains. They eat bugs. They talk funny. Kind of like some people I used to know.

But a frog sitting on a lily pad is a wondrous site. And they make cute little babies called tadpoles that wriggle and swim so entertainingly that children the whole world over go to the neighborhood pond and scoop them up in a jar and hope to watch them change into real frogs. I know I did. Actually, I think all the little tadpoles curled up and died in my jar, though.

In tenth grade Biology we had to skin a frog. That white meat looked pretty appetizing, especially the legs. I have yet to eat a plate of frog legs. They just don't sell them at Super One.

I don't have a dog or a cat anymore, but I was thinking about getting a frog for a pet. I can just

picture him jumping from note to note on the piano. Together, we might even compose a song or two.

When one of my granddaughters was going to school in Prague, I wrote a little poem and sent it to her. It went something like this:

Once there was a little frog

Who sat on a log

in a bog in the fog

in Prague

but along came a dog.

That was the end of the frog. He croaked.