Spring? Meh. I yearn for summer at the pond! Frogs to chase. Plop, plop, plop, as they dive into the pond in terror to escape my claws.
I sometimes attempt to supplement my diet by sneaking them into the house. But father insists on a strict catch-and-release policy.
Still, the thought of stocking the basement with my captive frog supply is so tempting. there’s nothing sinister in my plans; I only want to give them a safe place to live. I am a, what’s the word mother uses, a “humanitarian.”