There is a pond in the neighborhood where we live. Sister has been fishing there several times. We’ve been told there are, in fact, fish in it but Sister has never caught any. Earlier this month she loaded her pole on her bike and took off to try again. About 40 minutes later we were starting to think we should check on her when we saw her coming home … withOUT her bike but WITH something very large in her hand.
“Look, Will! She caught something!”
Hmm, something indeed. Hot, sticky and ready to come home, she had decided to throw one final cast and instead of a fish snagged this guy (girl? How can one know with a toad?).
“It was like he wanted to be caught. I kept reeling in my line and he kept following it.”
Unsure of what to do with a 3 pound frog hooked through the foot she’d left her bike and carried him (and the pole he was attached to) the quarter mile back home.
Our neighbor performed minor surgery on the lawn and all was well.
Before returning Kermit to the pond we all oohed and aahed over how big he was, how cool he was, how stupid he was … all of us, except Sister. Having carried the creature all the way home without hesitation she flatly refused to come near him once his life was no longer in peril.
Also, she has not been fishing again.