I'm just going to come right out and say it.
I killed our frog.
The first death,
not really my fault.
This one?
For sure.
I tried to be a good frog owner
and actually clean Walter's water for once.
Well, let's just say I didn't do it correctly.
He's dead.
Survival of the fittest has been a rather depressing reality in our little home for the past few weeks, culminating today in the death of our littlest frog.
You may remember I snagged these *handsome* fellas a couple months ago when I was wondering around UTC. Walter and Henry, my sister named them. And well, truth be told, Walter is a selfish food-hog. I'm pretty sure he's been eating Henry's helping of food pellets for the past month or so now because he has grown to be 3x bigger than little Henry.
I was planning to separate the feuding frogs so that little Henry could regain his strength, but apparently I didn't make the move quick enough. I woke up this morning to find our sweet little Henry laying belly-up at the bottom of his tank.
Darn you, Walter. It's all your fault.
If we can't keep frogs alive, how on God's green earth will we handle parenthood? =]]
A moment of silence, please.
The phone conversation went a little something like this:
Mrs: I bought us a pet!
Mr: What?!
Mrs: Yeah, a pet... well, actually two.
Mr: What are they?
Mrs: A surprise.
Mr: What are they?
Mrs: You'll see when you get home.
Mr: Um...
Mrs: They live in a tank, but they aren't fish.
Mr: Oh gosh...
About a month ago, I was strolling around UTC and found these little guys in Brookstone. What a lovely little addition to our kitchen. I'm convinced Jeremiah thinks so too... he just hasn't told me yet! ;)))
