August 7, 2020 – Friday
(Day 14 billion (or so it seems) of Covid-19. As of yesterday there were over 4.9 million cases in the US with over 160,000 deaths. We are losing ground and hot spots are now in 28 states. Worse than ever. Globally there are over 19.2 million cases and over 716K deaths. The US has 4.25% of the world’s population and yet we also have > 22% of the the world’s covid issues. NOT GOOD! This is not a drill! Mask up, people! Mask up!)
Still working on my writing folder … here’s another tidbit from the past.
Porcy and Minnie … (12/11/2004)
It’s mid-December in Denver and 64º outside ~ our weather is bizarre. It snowed 14″ in the mountains yesterday and we incurred such high winds that, overnight, practically the enter contents of our pond blew out and away.
We have a pond in our backyard – not a nice, natural “Mother Nature” pond … just a small pond we put in for aesthetics. And when I say “small” ~ I mean … SMALL! As in smaller than a bathtub but it serves its purpose. Over the years it has housed dozens of fish and tadpoles and temporarily had one errant Cocker Spaniel that fell in, one playful Malamute that dove in, one Lab that thought it was her private spa, and a very large raccoon who decided it was a diner.
So, here I am filling the pond and thinking back to my favorite tenants … Porcy and Minnie … our tadpoles.
We’ve had a LOT of pets over the years and our fair share of tadpoles in that mix, as well. I’ve since lost count of their lineage number – calling a squiggly creature Porcy XVI is a bit pretentious anyway. But there were MANY!
When the kids were little we (as in me, myself and I) thought it would be fun to “grow frogs”. Hence – our first acquisition/generation of tadpoles.
The kids were in charge of naming them (still have NO idea where the kids thought these up from) and hence, Porcy and Minnie came to be and were promptly given a prominent space on top of the kitchen peninsula’s counter. (I look back and surely some of my friends must have thought I was crazy and/or been grossed out!) Their abode was a nice little fish bowl – complete with a pretty colored rock bottom and ceramic mermaid to keep them company. (I do NOT miss cleaning those fishbowls!)
Sadly, Porcy and Minnie (I) didn’t quite make it to frog-hood. I’d forgotten to put the screen back on top of their house one night after cleaning … and well, when I came into the kitchen the next morning, I was horrified to find the bowl – empty. There was NO sight of them anywhere … and the cat was giving me NO clues of their disappearance, either.
I went back upstairs and as I passed my daughter’s room, I noticed something on the carpeting next to her bed … and sadly, yes, it was Porcy and Minnie! Their little, chubby bodies were laid out, in perfect alignment, side by side (our cat was VERY precise) … I presume as a gift for my daughter. Thankfully, she was at a sleepover and not in her bed (phew) … and as I left the room to get a towel for them … the cat sat close by looking so proud and happy. I think she was actually smiling.
Not wanting to face the DEATH issue (and all that that entailed) – I did as many parents have done when a pet has died … I raced to the garden store and replaced them. And, as I’d hoped … no one (but me and the cat) was any wiser for my efforts.
(Side note: this is not advisable … but you can do this and get away with it with tadpoles and goldfish… maybe a hamster, mouse or gerbil but anything else your kids will know the replacement is an imposter!)
So, that’s how the line of Porcys and Minnies started. We had P and M II until the next spring – whereas, by then, I was pretty sick of having tadpoles on my kitchen counter and they hadn’t yet so much as sprouted ONE little froggy leg!
I decided that releasing them in the creek, across the way, would be the nicest act of kindness to bestow on these fair and loyal creatures who we had incarcerated for far too long. I felt like Jeremiah Johnson – communing with Nature – being one with the Universe. I’d release those babies from captivity and all would be well in the world.
That’s not exactly how things went.
The kids and I carried these tadpole treasures to the creek. We said our good-byes and plopped them into the water. Now this COULD have had a very happy ending with us watching them swim away in the calm shallow water – in and out of the reeds – enjoying the sun on their now freed backs as it filtered through the waters. But noooo – we had to release them the day after a heavy rain … the day when our little, trickling creek had transformed into a raging river – rapids and all!
Without giving it a second thought (why?) we plopped them into the water and their little bodies shot forward at lightning speed – they were probably pummeled to death before we even turned our backs! I was horrified (again) – what had I been thinking???
My kids, however, thought it was FABULOUS! As if we’d just strapped these little life forms onto a rocket ship or a wild roller coaster! Wheeeeee! They giggled and chattered all the way home about HOW MUCH FUN Porcy and Minnie must be having on their wild ride. My thoughts were more along the lines of … RIP.
We continued, for whatever reasons (which now totally elude me – other than I’m a glutton for punishment), to have tads over the years. The kids, obviously, now knew that these were NOT the original P and M – but the names stuck and all tadpoles henceforth would also be named Porcy and Minnie.
Somewhere nearing the Porcy and Minnie XX generation we had THREE make it the froglet stage. (And yes – they were all named P and M/even if there were more than 2 tads! Kind of like George Foreman’s family.) These tads had actually sprouted little, chubby, froglet legs! Hallelujah!!!! Success! We were ecstatic!
We gave them larger accommodations. They lived in the pond in the summer but cold nights, frost and snow made me feel really guilty and I eventually put them in an old fish aquarium (another pet disaster story) in the laundry room – next to Charlie, the guinea pig. (I nicknamed him Tuna and I loved him dearly. But, eventually felt sorry for him being in a cage and gave him to a neighborhood family with lots of kids and other guinea pigs and they all (children and pigs) had free-range of the fenced yard and Charlie Tuna lived to be the oldest, happiest guinea pig on the planet. Or he was eaten by a fox; I’m not sure.)
Winter finally ceded to spring and warmer days arrived and the froglets were to be moved into their summer home – the pond – within the week. I don’t know who was more excited – me or the tads. Probably me. I’d been delighted and diligent in my motherly tadpole/froglet duties all winter – feeding, cleaning, talking/singing to them, encouraging them to grow more legs, etc.
But one morning I realized one of the froglets was missing! Uh – oh … not again! Sadly, an extensive search turned up his brown, lifeless little body on the family room floor. Once again, the cat looked mighty happy.
A few days later my husband walked into the laundry room (to what he could only later describe as a scene from some gruesome horror movie) to find another froglet – dead on the counter. (Amazingly enough the cat had nothing to do with the undoing of this one!)
Apparently the froglet jumped out of his enclosure and dangled his little front leg inside Charlie’s cage (I can only imagine in some sort of nice, friendly wave or greeting) – where upon Charlie promptly chomped off the froglet’s leg! I don’t know how much blood a froglet has in his body – but it was clearly enough to upset my husband and have him say to me, “DO NOT GO INTO the laundry room!”. Graciously, he cleaned up the mess. (Apparently, the poor little one had hopped around and well … use your imagination.)
So, froglet #2 was a goner. After that I stopped calling the pig Tuna and went back to his first name … Charlie … adding Manson as his last name. Sadly, it fit.
So, after four months of pampering these froglets we were down to ONE. We made a BIG deal (pomp and circumstance to the hilt) and we ceremoniously placed him into the pond. In preparation I had gotten a whole bunch of new goldfish and more tads to keep him company and they were already in the pond waiting for his arrival. Woohoo – finally!
We were all so excited to have this little one go to his new home. Each of us gave a little speech about this little loved froglet and how we all wished him a long, happy life and continued growth into a real frog. It was lovely. A froglet has never been more loved.
Personally, I don’t think he lasted 12 hours! That night a large raccoon came visiting the Pond Diner and wiped us out. New fish, new tadpoles and our one lovely froglet … all eaten. Even my plastic alligator decoration had his legs chomped off! (I still have that alligator!)
After that I gave up on tads – too emotionally draining! Kids, dogs, cats, rodents … I can handle … but it was too sad losing those little ones. After each and every demise I’d cry my eyes out. I couldn’t continue with the carnage (and in reality, I was pretty sick of all things tadpoley, too). So, that is the story of our tadpoles … Porcy and Minnie I through ????.
I haven’t had those little critters since but I somehow miss them and every spring/summer the smell of tadpoles is in the air and I get that distinct motherly pull to make a run down to the garden center.