Monday, January 3, 2011

Things I Wish Would Move Out Of My House: Part 2: The Toilet Frog

The Toilet Frog is a frog that appears every night in my bathroom in the wet season. He comes in, gets covered in dust and dog hair, and waits for me to rescue him. I wet my hands, clean him off, and then put him out the window. And I know it’s the same frog, because he knows the drill. The first few times he tried to get away, but now he just gives me a narrow look: I’ve been here for ages. Where the hell were you? 

The Toilet Frog looks a little like the frog in this picture, although the frog in this picture is a lot more sensible frog than the Toilet Frog. The frog in this picture is my favourite sort of frog: an outside frog.

The Toilet Frog is called the Toilet Frog because I have previously caught him swimming in the bowl, and I suspect that’s how he gets into the bathroom. Did you know that the sewerage system is crawling with wildlife? I really wish I didn’t. And frogs aren’t even the worst of it.

I once took a call at work from a man asking for contact details for a snake handler. The man, who was surprisingly calm, had gone to investigate a strange knocking sound in his bathroom, lifted up the rattling toilet lid, and discovered a python looking for an exit. As a result, I can no longer go to the toilet in the dark. Of all the god-awful things I’ve heard in my line of work, I think that’s probably one of the worst. The horror has stayed with me. 

The Toilet Frog is not the same frog as the Windowsill Frog. The Windowsill Frog was a very dark green, bony-looking frog. I think he was quite old. I named him Fidel Bonaventure Jumping-Castle, and he used to sit on the windowsill and sing quietly to himself, driving my cats insane because they could never find him. I haven’t seen Fidel again yet this wet season, and I suspect that he has passed away, gone to the big drainpipe in the sky, where the moths are fat and plentiful, the rain is cool, and the cats are as dumb as bags of rocks. 


  1. My daughter lives in Brisbane, having lived previously in Perth, Exmouth, Mackay and Yeppoon (I may have left one out). Anyway, she's had problems with snakes in the garden, on her windowsill, cane toads in the cat's drinking bowl, large lizards (blue-tongues?) in the garage. Recently, she mentioned "my first spider" in a cheerful voice. They've had possums in the attic and trouble with emus and roos.

    I live in Ireland, thank god. St Patrick banished all our snakes in the fifth century. I reckon he transported them all down under.

    Our house is spiderville, btw, but they're all harmless.

  2. Thanks, JJ! It's always an adventure in Australia, even in suburbia, and especially in the north! Luckily I've never been troubled with snakes, because they freak me out completely! As far as I know none of my house spiders are particularly venomous, and the gecko population keeps them under control anyway. I'm too close to the city to be troubled by emus and roos, but don't get me started on possums! Possums are the bane of my existence! Such a cute, fuzzy bane, but still a bane.

  3. This is pitch-perfect. I think I pulled a muscle on reading, "I named him Fidel Bonaventure Jumping-Castle."

  4. Thanks MC! I try to name all the wildlife cool things so they don't freak me out... Although I have always loved frogs & Fidel was almost domesticated!



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