Harry vs. THE FROG

I love Harry. I really do. Aside from the bad photography, he has a great

personality, and is the life of the party NOT. Anyway, I do love him.

I was minding my own business and I kept hearing a "thump thump" in my hallway. I just assumed that it was Harry playing with one of his many cat toys that he "bats" around with his paw.

Nope. Not. Even. Close.

It was a frog. A real, live, hopping frog. In my hallway. Coming toward me.

I'm basically not a squeamish person, but the thought of a frog in my house just totally grossed me out. I yelled for Harry. Nothing. I yelled again. Nothing. I step over the frog and go look for my 14 lb. killer cat. I found him. Hiding. Behind a door.

I pick him up and carry him to the frog location. I put him beside the frog and they just stare.

Finally the frog starts to hop and Harry jumps UP three feet. The frog continues hopping down the hall and Harry is now "slinking" or dragging his belly down the hall behind the frog, I hope in pursuit.

Nope. Not a chance.

The frog gets to the back door and I "help" him across the threshold, into the garage.

Now the frog in in the garage, out of the house, and I put Harry out there to do what cats are supposed to do when they are confronted with a small object that hops.

Nothing. I got nothing.

Harry rolled over on his back similar to the photo above so I could rub his fat tummy. Big weenie.

I put the frog outside. He can obviously take care of himself. Harry...not so much.