The Wise Frogger
My Wet Pet
(c)2008 Suzan Vaughn
(no reproduction without permission)
chow-chow Rusti had been a spirit dog for a year when thoughts of hooking up
with a new animal friend crossed my mind. But a deal I'd made five years earlier
caught up with me, making animal companionship an illusive notion. And anyway,
the Divine Unseen had other plans for my next animal companion. Moving headlong
into a difficult situation I couldnít foresee would mean my new house guest
would arrive with synchronistic Native American symbolism.
Before we were
married, my husband asked me if I would consider living without my dog and two
cats. When he asked me that, it was practically our first date and I said I
would consider it if we got serious, thinking nothing of it. I insisted then
that it definitely would not happen until my chow-chow Rusti and my two cats,
Bosley and Batgirl, had passed on.
After we were married, he was wonderful with the animals, cared for them
tenderly, and loved them deeply. But he keenly felt a deep personal
responsibility for the animals, believing they should completely fulfill their
karmic debts without euthanasia, and the inevitable loss and end of life
struggles were too hard for him to take. Severe allergies along with a
resistance to taking medication, added to his perspective.
later, all my animals were spirit helpers from the other side, and in all
fairness, it was his turn to have his way: to live without the daily care and
consideration that animal companions require.
A move three
states away as well as his retirement meant that our new living situation didnít
support having animals either. It was far less than ideal for a cat or a dog to
join our tiny new living space. To complicate matters more, we were battling
each other in the cramped quarters while we redefined ourselves as business
partners in what was previously my home based internet retail business. His
concerns about living on half the income weíd had, as well as his desire to
optimize our e-commerce strategies came with the biggest challenge our marriage
had faced. Trying to find our loving marriage in the day to day battles for
control, too much togetherness, and a critical loss of my own autonomy left me
in tears way too often.
ďSo what would be the perfect animal companion in my current situation?Ē
I asked my Higher Sources, and the answer was right in front of me, or more
precisely, on the north side of the house.
The north side
is the one adjacent a culvert that carries rainwater and other runoff to the
ocean. Teaming with life, itís filled with all manner of creatures that come
and go seasonally including dragonflies, ducks, a variety of insects, and tiny
That was also
the side of the house where there was a problem with the door frame. A half-inch
gap underneath it allowed spring breezes to waft in and it wasnít long before
something else squeezed in under the door: tiny frog visitors.
At first they
seemed to come in small families of four. A couple of them would hop on in,
sometimes loitering behind the bookcase for awhile, sometimes climbing the wall
with their little sucker feet. One of them would scale the wall half-way up,
jump into the cut out eyes on a wooden giraffe mask that hung there, and
hibernate behind the wood. Eventually, they all ended up in the water-filled
vase with the lucky bamboo plants where they could lounge on a stalk half in and
half out of the water.
weeks each night around dinner time, a mama frog would squeeze underneath the
door and wait just inside. After a few minutes, a couple of juvenile frogs
inevitably appeared from inside the house, and followed her out.
I welcomed them
in, marveling at their chameleon skin, watching it change colors right in front
of my eyes whenever they moved from clinging to a bamboo stalk to the light
wooden table the bamboo arrangement sat on. As a professional inter-species
communicator (aka Pet Psychic or Animal Communicator), I naturally opened the
lines of discussion immediately.
communication was about what parts of the house would be safest for them. I let
them know that humans are not always cognizant of their feet, which can injure
tiny amphibians. Their listening skills were impeccable, and rarely did they
make a mistake and venture outside the area I asked them to stay in. Once in
awhile when a newcomer did, we herded him gently back to the safe zone.
conversations revolved around relieving themselves outside.
After a month or
so, I began to recognize their energy, and one of them in particular visited
daily. I called him Frogger, and delighted in his company.
This is what human love and respect feels like, I told him,
sending those sentiments his way.
He took it in.
He came back for more on subsequent days and told his friends.
I really want to touch your body, I said to my Frogger friend
one day, as he floated in the plant water. Humans love
to touch. Will you let me? I asked. He didnít really want to, but
my enthusiasm trampled down my desire to respect his space.
Frogger jumped a
little to the side of the bowl as my finger came gently into contact with his
back, saying his instinct was to hop away, but he stayed and I apologized for
not being able to resist touching him.
I also shared
worry with him.
Iím concerned thereís nothing for you to eat here, I told
plenty for me to eat here, he said, you just canít
The next day I noticed a tiny nest of gnats I hadnít seen
I admired Frogger's efficiency when it came to swimming, a
sport I also enjoyed. He treaded water without having to wave his arms around
like me. He just naturally floated.
further in the new location meant repairs, and as the weather got cooler, we
installed weather stripping at the bottom of the door to keep the cold out. I
was greatly saddened that Frogger would no longer be able to visit spontaneously
and it weighed heavily on my mind for a few days. Then one morning I got up and
looked in the lucky bamboo only to find his little head poking above the water!
Frogger! I said. Iím
so happy you found a way in!
But had he? I
was concerned. What if he had been hiding in the house for a couple of days and
he couldnít get out? I had to know, so as soon as he began hopping along the
wall toward the door jamb, his normal exit strategy, I asked him.
Please show me if you need my help getting out of the house and back to
your frog family, I said.
slow. He hopped. He stopped. He changed direction a few times and hopped around,
but didnít go out.
I guess youíll need a little help then, I said, and with
that, I opened the door. He could easily feel the cool night air, smell the fog,
and hear the sounds of his fellow frogs in the culvert outside. Yet he hopped
away from the door once it was open and waited patiently nearby.
I closed the
door and sat back, waiting to hear what he was trying to convey. Then, after a
few minutes, he proceeded to a tiny separation between the weather stripping and
the door jamb, flattened his body, and wiggled his way out through the small
crack. It was an amazing magical feat in which he reduced his body size by half!
It took a great deal of effort and I congratulated him, thanking him for showing
me his escape route and setting my mind at ease.
Frogger was so
clever and our communication was going so well, my joy at having him as a
companion increased until one day I offered him a proposition.
How would you like to be a star and contribute to inter-species harmony?
I asked him. Iím
going to write up our story and I need some photos. What
that means is that there will be a flash of light and Iíll be getting pretty
close to you. But youíll be safe. Iím only admiring your good looks.
I thought I heard Frogger agree to pose, but I wasnít
sure. (Itís harder to be objective once youíre emotionally involved!)
The photo op
would prove challenging when the new camera I used was difficult to focus
correctly. I informed my wet companion of my dilemma, told him that it might
take more than one try, and asked for his patience.
He sat quite
still for a full set of more than a dozen flashing photos. I plugged the camera
into the computer and waited. All blurry. Drats.
When I returned
from viewing the photos on the computer in another room, he hadnít moved a
muscle. Sorry, Frogger. But I failed this round. I need to try again,
I told him as I geared up for another round of photos.
more flashing photographs was also problematic.
Sorry, again, I told him, returning from viewing the
pictures. He still hadnít moved as I proceeded to shoot a third round of
Three times was
a charm as the pictures materialized on the computer screen. I laughed and
laughed at seeing Froggerís face up close. He had Andy Rooney eyebrows, a wide
smile, and he looked like a Chinese scholar. My respect for his ancient species
humbled me, but my smile was ear to ear as I looked at his close-ups.
bowl where he was floating in the water, I told him I had gotten the photos and
thanked him for his patience. I told him what fun and amusement it was to see
his wise face. At that, he immediately dove down into the water in the bamboo
bowl with a plop! He had agreed to allow me to get
the photos I wanted, no matter how long it took me, but once it was done, he
agreements that worked for many months. One or two frogs in the house at a time,
do your business outside, stay in the living room along the wooden flooring,
come over anytime, and bring the kids if you want. After years in the business,
Iím still not beyond being amazed at these negotiations, and I was especially
pleased when he went out every night to relieve himself. After just a few weeks,
there was no sign of froggie poo in the house.
Frogger became my animal companion, I was drawn to a book that helped me
understand the Native American symbolism of his species. In Spirit
Animals, Victoria Covell writes that frogs are all about
adaptability. ďIf frog has chosen to appear to you, it is asking you to
encourage that part of yourself that is not only open to change but understands
its benefits,Ē she says. ďFrog spirit reflects the fundamental principle
that all life evolves and that nothing ever remains constant. Frog knows that
what seems strange today, may very well be a comfortable reality tomorrow.Ē
Those words gave
me great comfort that my husband and I would once again find our love for one
another. That we would eventually be successful in redefining our roles, sort
out our new business relationship, and experience a new depth of comfort with
one another. Things were settling into place.
After weeks of
quiet harmony, I found Frogger early one morning outside his designated area. I
was alarmed and mentioned the safety issue to him, telepathically asking that he
return to the safe zone. He complied but said he had a message and was trying to
get my attention. He looked a little older and more gray in color, said he had
to go for a season, and that he had work to do outside. Wishing him well, I
invited him or another frog friend of his choosing to experience human love,
respect and a home in the lucky bamboo.
Iím full of
gratitude for my new friends and their nightly chorus, which rises like a wave
of a million croaking voices, then crashes into silence all at once. Frog
lullabies rock me to sleep and for now, I enjoy the perfect animal companionship
with my amphibian friends and the many animals I work with in my daily practice.
Vaughn is a Pet and People Psychic Counselor with 20 years experience, a B.A. in
Psychology and an M.A. in Communication. She works internationally by phone and
in-person when appropriate. She is the owner of www.telepathictalk.com
and www.goddessgift.net (celebrating
ancient Ďherstoricalí wisdom), and author of Dispatches from the Ark: Pages
from a Pet Psychicís Notebook.