Moose Country Minute – September 13 2014


The other day, just before slipping on a damp pair of boat shoes, I noticed what looked like a big pile of brown animal turd in one of the shoes.

It turned out, instead, to be a big old toad, basking in the cool dampness provided for it in that wet shoe, and thankfully not the big hunk of animal dung that it first appeared to be.

So I dumped out the toad, watched it hop away into a nearby flower bed, and then put on the evacuated boat shoes and went out for a few hours of fishing in order to drain the brain.

How was the fishing? Don’t ask.

The only good news is that I beat the rain back to the dock, which is not to say I did not get drenched tying up the old 14-foot tinny.

My getting drenched again, however, was good news for the toad because, next morning, there he was — once again snuggled up in the damp recesses of my boat shoes.

 I am a great believer that possession is nine-tenths of the law so the toad now has my boat shoe as his home for as long as he wants it.

No argument from me. I had another pair in the basement, with a big hole in the toe.

And they’ll do for now.


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