The small brown dog sat with her head cocked, listening and watching intently and wagging her tail furiously. There was no movement that I could see under the shrubs and I thought she might be imagining something. Then she abruptly jumped backwards and gave a single, sharp bark - and to my surprise, I saw a toad emerge from under the greenery and stop just a few inches from her.
He sat, still as stone, brownish colored and perfectly calm, watching her cooly and without a trace of fear or good sense. She barked again, a yelp that pierced the early morning air and startled me but did not appear to disturb him in the least. She took a hesitant step toward him, nose to the ground and almost in a low crawl, ears perked upright and eyes dancing with curiosity. He continued to watch her disinterestledy, filmy eyes yellow and green tinged and half lidded. She slowly took another step closer, caution and inquisitiveness at odds within her small little self and when she glanced at me almost as if for approval, I spoke her name softly, It's ok, I told her, Just go easy. She looked back at the foreign creature and slid another inch in his direction, deceptively resting her chin on the concrete drive but still alert and prepared to move quickly.
The toad stayed motionless, only his rapid breathing giving any indication that he was alive. I thought about my camera but it was inside and I knew that if I moved, the whole scene would fall apart so I sat still, watching and wondering how this contest would play out. The brown dog had now made her way to just a postage stamp's distance away and still the toad didn't move. They watched each other but neither seemed anxious to make the next move. They were stalemated and it lasted for several minutes until finally the dog barked in frustration and jumped to her feet in an unexpected flurry and the toad seized the moment, leaping for the safety and darkness beneath the deck. The dog tried to follow at once, white paws scrabbling on the concrete in a panic and entire body quivering, but the toad had made his escape good. She gave one final bark and then plunked her little body down in the wet grass, head on her paws and nose pressed against the wooden slats, whining softly and looking after him forlornly.
Would she have hurt him? Not in a hundred years - her nature is too tender hearted and too forgiving. It was a moment of potential friendship that passed her by and knowing her attention span to be brief, I knew she would forget and move on. Time heals all wounds and eases all sorrows, even for small brown dogs and toads.
He sat, still as stone, brownish colored and perfectly calm, watching her cooly and without a trace of fear or good sense. She barked again, a yelp that pierced the early morning air and startled me but did not appear to disturb him in the least. She took a hesitant step toward him, nose to the ground and almost in a low crawl, ears perked upright and eyes dancing with curiosity. He continued to watch her disinterestledy, filmy eyes yellow and green tinged and half lidded. She slowly took another step closer, caution and inquisitiveness at odds within her small little self and when she glanced at me almost as if for approval, I spoke her name softly, It's ok, I told her, Just go easy. She looked back at the foreign creature and slid another inch in his direction, deceptively resting her chin on the concrete drive but still alert and prepared to move quickly.
The toad stayed motionless, only his rapid breathing giving any indication that he was alive. I thought about my camera but it was inside and I knew that if I moved, the whole scene would fall apart so I sat still, watching and wondering how this contest would play out. The brown dog had now made her way to just a postage stamp's distance away and still the toad didn't move. They watched each other but neither seemed anxious to make the next move. They were stalemated and it lasted for several minutes until finally the dog barked in frustration and jumped to her feet in an unexpected flurry and the toad seized the moment, leaping for the safety and darkness beneath the deck. The dog tried to follow at once, white paws scrabbling on the concrete in a panic and entire body quivering, but the toad had made his escape good. She gave one final bark and then plunked her little body down in the wet grass, head on her paws and nose pressed against the wooden slats, whining softly and looking after him forlornly.
Would she have hurt him? Not in a hundred years - her nature is too tender hearted and too forgiving. It was a moment of potential friendship that passed her by and knowing her attention span to be brief, I knew she would forget and move on. Time heals all wounds and eases all sorrows, even for small brown dogs and toads.
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