I stood and thought of what to do while he continued to just sit there. I could tell he was looking at me. I didn’t like that.
I reached over the frog to open the door. Thankfully he didn’t move; I might have collapsed. My heart was already pounding and my knees were weak.
In an effort to figure out his plan of attack, I began motioning as if I was going to take a step to the right to enter the garage. When he didn’t move, I motioned to the left. Again, he did nothing.
I thought that meant he wasn’t going to move, so I summoned the courage to step over him. The moment I began to move with intention, he pivoted and then moved slightly to the left.
I jumped back and begin to loudly scorn the frog.
“I knew you were watching me and just waiting, you little jerk!”
Though I was annoyed by his action, it did put him to the left of the path, meaning I could now more easily skirt him to the right. I would be closer to him than I would like, but I knew I now had a good chance of getting inside the garage unscathed.
If you’re saying right about now, “That frog is more afraid of you then you are of it,” you are wrong.
I was just as certain as he was — maybe moreso — that he would lead to my imminent demise.
Now that I was actually late to work because of this garbage, I took one big breath and a gulp, and I decided to go for it.
In one swift motion, I jumped into the garage and grabbed hold of the door handle, slamming it behind me.
I was in the garage. I couldn’t breathe, but I was safe.
Once I regained my composure, I yelled from behind the door, “You better not be here when I get home!”
Misty Knisely, managing editor, can be reached at 574-732-5155 or via email at email@example.com.