The Watcher

In the shower today, while washing the shampoo out of my hair, I got this strange feeling that I wasn’t alone.  You know that feeling… like you’re being watched.  Then I heard a noise.  I knew I wasn’t alone. 

Rrrrriiiibittttt… I was taking a shower with a frog.

Now, how the heck did this little green guy get in my shower? He seemed very content and rather bothered that I wanted to move him out.

He’s not the first of his kind to take to following me.  It’s getting a bit notorious really.

It started when we lived in Prineville, which is in the high-desert , AKA the driest place in Oregon, akin to the Mojave.  Yes, a real frog meca.  I started hearing choirs of them at night.  Then they started coming inside.  I’d find them in the most peculiar places.  One time I went to put on a shirt from my closet and one jumped out onto my shoulder.  Another time I went to get in the car, and one was sitting in the driver’s seat.  I got use to sharing our home with them.  When we moved to Grants Pass, some came in boxes with us.  It was borderline freaky.  I began to think of them as some sort of totem animal, but I wasn’t sure what it was they were trying to tell me.  The plague of frogs came to mind, but this certainly didn’t seem like a biblical curse.  It seemed more friendly, if you can call an amphibian invasion such.

But then they went away.  I hadn’t seen any visitors in several years. 

Thankfully, they haven’t forgotten me.   They are a pretty amazing transformational creature and I have a feeling, they have a lot to teach me. 

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