Stop That Frog!

by Henry Winkler

  “Do you think they sell frogs at Pets for U and Me?” I asked Frankie.

  “Hank . . . are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” he answered.

  Oh yes, I sure was.

  I convinced everyone to change direction and head to the pet store. Even though Frankie and Ashley had their mouths watering for pizza, they understood that I needed to get to the pet store right away. When I have an idea, I need to fly into action that very minute. And I was hoping that this idea was the answer to my Fred-the-Frog problem.

  “If you’re thinking that you can replace Fred with another frog, you’re wrong,” Ashley said as we walked quickly down the street. “Don’t you think Principal Love knows his own frog?”

  “Maybe Fred has an identical twin in the back who’s been really missing his brother,” I said. “That could happen.”

  “Yeah, when penguins wear soccer shorts,” Frankie said, opening the front door to the store.

  As you go into Pets for U and Me, instead of a bell ringing, you hear the sounds of jungle birds and monkeys. You feel like you’re in a South American rain forest.

  “Hi, how can I help you today?” George said, coming out from behind the cash register. “Did you come for some treats for Cheerio?”

  It’s cool that George knows all the animals in the neighborhood.

  “I’m not here on dog business today,” I told him. “I’m here on frog business. Please say you have a White’s tree frog I can buy.”

  “Oh, they make great little pets,” George said. “Let me check in the back and see what I have.”

  As George headed for his storeroom, Papa Pete put his hand on my shoulder.

  “I like that you’re trying to replace what you lost, Hank,” he said. “But you cannot pretend that this new frog is the original.”

  While I was thinking about that, George came bouncing out, carrying a small plastic tub.

  “It’s your lucky day!” he said. “I’ve got just the guy for you.”

  We all looked inside, and there was a fat little frog, sitting on a green plastic log. He looked just like Fred!

  “Can I hold him?” I asked.

  “Sure,” George said, scooping the frog up. “Just hold him firmly in both hands.”

  The little frog sat comfortably in my palms. Suddenly, he made a noise that sounded just like a burp.

  “Well, excuse you,” George said to him. Then looking at me, he added, “He just had two crickets for lunch.”

  Frankie, Ashley, and I studied the little frog closely.

  “He’s about the same size as Fred,” I said. “With the same little suction cups on his toes. And the same white spots on his back.”

  Ashley put her finger under his belly and gave him a little tickle. The frog moved, and my heart sank. His belly was not pinkish like Fred’s. It was yellow. Definitely yellow.

  “Do you happen to have one just like this but with a pink belly?” I asked George.

  “I’m afraid this is the only one I have,” George said. “I can be on the lookout for a pink-bellied one.”

  “I need it by Monday morning, before school,” I told him.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you there, Hank. You’re sure this guy won’t do?”

  “He’s a wonderful frog,” I told George. “But no thank you.”

  We left the store and stood outside on the sidewalk. A cold breeze blew in our faces, reminding me that I was still soaking wet. I shivered.

  “We better get you home and into some dry clothes,” Papa Pete said. “I can always go pick up some pizza later.”

  “Thanks, anyway,” I said to him. “I’m just not in the mood for pizza anymore.”

  What I had done was hitting me like a ton of elephants. I had lost Fred for good. And I was just going to have to face that.

  When we got to the apartment, I expected Cheerio to come running to say hello. But he was nowhere to be found.

  “That’s strange,” I said out loud. “I wonder where Cheerio is.”

  “You just go change your wet clothes,” Papa Pete told me. “He’s probably asleep in his bed in the kitchen. I’ll go look.”

  “Ashley and I will come with you,” Frankie said. “Maybe there are cookies in there, too.”

  I walked into my bedroom and put on a pair of jeans that I had flung over the back of my desk chair. As I went to my bottom drawer to get out one of my many Mets sweatshirts, I noticed a strange thing. Actually two strange things. Just inside the drawer, where I had left it slightly open, were two red rose petals sitting on my gray sweatshirt. They floated to the rug as I pulled the sweatshirt out of the drawer. I wondered if my mom had put them there to make my drawer smell all rose-y. I would have to talk to her about that. I’d rather my drawers smell all baseball-y.

  No one was there when I came back into the living room. I glanced at the vase on the coffee table. Was it my imagination, or did all the roses have fewer petals than before?

  As I looked around the living room, I noticed that there were rose petals tucked all over the place. There were some under the coffee table. There was a little pile of them peeking out from behind the curtain. And a few were even half buried under the leather cushion of my dad’s armchair.

  “Hey, Frankie!” I called. “Hey, Ashley! Can you guys get in here right away?”

  Frankie and Ashley came in from the kitchen, each one munching on one of my mom’s flaxseed chocolate-chip cookies.

  “These cookies aren’t as bad as they look,” Frankie said. “Here, we brought one for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, “but this is not cookie time. I’ve made what I think is an important discovery.”

  “Did you find Fred?” Ashley asked.

  “No. But I found what I think is a clue.”

  I held my hand open and showed them some of the rose petals I had picked up from under the coffee table.

  “I don’t get it,” Frankie said. “Your mom’s roses are shedding. Why is that a clue?”

  “Just watch,” I whispered.

  We stayed very still for a moment. Then, as we stood there, Cheerio came trotting into the living room through the doors from the terrace. He was too busy to even look up at us. Heading for the pile of rose petals tucked underneath the curtain, he picked a few of them up in his mouth, and went out the same way he had come in.

  “Cheerio has scattered the petals all over the house,” I said.

  “Your dog is going to get in so much trouble from your dad,” Ashley told me.

  “There’s got to be a reason,” I said. “Let’s follow that dog!”

  I rushed over to the doors that lead out to our terrace, with Frankie and Ashley following close behind.

  We watched as Cheerio went to one of the large clay planters that holds my mom’s favorite rubber tree. He stood up on his back legs, his front paws holding on to the edge of the planter. Gently, he dropped the petals into a hole in the dirt. Then he whimpered gently, the way he does whenever I rub his belly.

  Except there was no belly rubbing going on.

  “Cheerio, are you doing what I think you’re doing, boy?” I asked him.

  And once again, without even looking up at me, he trotted right back into the living room.

  We rushed over to the planter and looked down into the freshly dug hole.

  “What do you see down there?” Frankie whispered right in my ear.

  I was so excited, I could hardly speak. At the bottom of the hole was a pile of pink and red rose petals. And peeking out from under them was a pair of droopy eyes and a little froggy face.

  “Fred!” I screamed. “I’ve found you! You’re here!”

  Ashley and Frankie leaned in to get a look into the hole.

  “That’s him!” Frankie yelled.

  “Fred, we were so worried about you!” Ashley t
old him.

  The three of us screamed so loud, we probably woke up the dinosaurs at the Museum of Natural History down the block! Papa Pete came running out to the terrace.

  “You found him?” he cried. “Where was he?”

  “In his new home in the planter,” I explained.

  Papa Pete looked confused. “His home in the planter?”

  “Cheerio must have found Fred hopping around, and then tried to make a safe home for him,” I reasoned. “That’s probably why Cheerio scattered the petals all over the apartment.”

  “And then he found the perfect place to build a home— the planter,” Frankie finished.

  “That’s wonderful, kids. Great detective work!” Papa Pete said. “Now let’s hurry and put him back in his tank before we have to go on another search-and-rescue mission.”

  As I reached in to pick up Fred, Cheerio came running to the planter as fast as his little legs could go. He put himself right between me and Fred, and started to bark. It was as if he was saying to me, “Please don’t take him. He’s my friend.”

  I got down on one knee and reached out to pet Cheerio.

  “I know how you feel, boy,” I said gently to him. “I like Fred, too. But he belongs to somebody else. He can’t stay here forever.”

  Cheerio put his head on my knee and let me scratch him behind his ears.

  “We still have the rest of the weekend to enjoy Fred,” I tried to explain to him.

  “Yeah,” Ashley said, bending down to join in our scratch fest. “Why don’t you start by taking Fred for a ride on your back?”

  “Whoa there, kids,” Papa Pete said. “That frog has to go back in his tank.”

  “That’s the idea,” Frankie said. “Cheerio can be his taxi.”

  I reached into the dirt hole and gently lifted Fred out. Cheerio stared at his droopy little eyes, and . . . I know this sounds weird . . . but I’m sure he smiled. Fred didn’t smile back, but he did blow up his throat to the size of an English muffin and let out a long, low croak.

  Cheerio looked so proud when I placed Fred on the middle of his back.

  “Okay, boy,” I said to him. “You’re the driver. To my room, please.”

  We all followed as Cheerio trotted happily into my room. When we got to the tank, Cheerio paused. Then he spun around in circles like he was chasing his tail. Fred hung on tight. I hoped he wasn’t the kind of frog who got dizzy on roller coasters. I sure didn’t want to have to clean up froggy barf after the day we’d had. Well, after any day.

  I thanked Cheerio for giving Fred such a fun ride. Then I lifted Fred and put him back on the plastic log in his tank.

  “Remember to put the cover on,” Ashley said.

  “Trust me, I will never forget that again,” I told her.

  Papa Pete seemed very happy to have our frog adventure end.

  “Let’s celebrate with some milk and cookies in the kitchen,” he suggested.

  “Great idea,” I said as I headed for the door.

  “Uh, Hank?” Frankie said. “The cover to the tank. The one you were never going to forget?”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “You forgot it.”

  I looked down at my bed, and sure enough, there was the cover.

  Welcome to Hank Zipzer’s brain!

  On Monday morning at breakfast, I asked my dad if Cheerio could walk with us to school.

  “I’d rather he didn’t,” my dad said. “His habit of sniffing everything he walks by will make you late.”

  “But, Dad, this is his last day with Fred,” I argued. “And I’m sure they need to say good-bye. Besides, I promised Fred he could have one last ride on Cheerio’s back.”

  “Oh no,” my dad said. “I have to draw the line at that. There will be no doggy-back riding as long as I’m in charge.”

  I knew that tone of voice. And I knew that I’d never be able to change his mind.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Cheerio comes, but Fred stays in his tank. That’s a deal.”

  “If Cheerio goes, then Katherine goes, too,” Emily said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  “That’s too many animals,” my dad said. “You should always have more people than animals on any walk.”

  “But Katherine will be lonely and feel left out,” Emily said. “She’s a very sensitive iguana.”

  She turned to my mom and smiled sweetly at her, which is something you don’t see often.

  “Would you do me a favor?” she asked my mom. “Could you give Katherine a bath in the sink after we leave? She finds that very relaxing.”

  “Emily, I have to go to work,” my mom told her.

  “Besides, we’re not running an iguana spa here,” my dad added.

  “Fine,” Emily said. “Then I’ll just set up her favorite book outside her tank, so she can spend the morning reading.”

  “News flash, Emily,” I said. “Lizards can’t read.”

  “Katherine can. Her favorite book is called The Big Book of Flies. I read it to her before she goes to sleep.”

  “Oh, so that’s why she hisses all night,” I said.

  I hurried into my room before she could say anything else. This time, I checked to make sure the cover was tightly in place on Fred’s tank. When I returned to the living room with the tank in hand, my dad had already put Cheerio on his leash.

  It’s a good thing that PS 87 is only a block from our apartment building. By the time we reached the front steps, that frog tank had become very heavy. Frankie and Ashley were waiting for us at the school entrance. They wanted to say good-bye to Fred, too. Not Emily, though. She just kissed Dad good-bye and bolted into the building. As she ran up the stairs, Principal Love came running down.

  “Fred!” he yelled. “My little buddy! It’s so good to see you!”

  He put his face right up next to the tank. Poor Fred, I thought. He was getting a real up-close view of Principal Love’s mole.

  “How’d the weekend go?” Principal Love asked me. “Did this little rascal give you any problems?”

  “Not even one,” I answered.

  “Yeah,” Frankie agreed. “Piece of cake.”

  “You can say that again.” Ashley nodded. “Things couldn’t have gone any smoother.”

  We all stood there, nodding our heads like bobblehead dolls.

  “I am so pleased to hear that,” Principal Love said. “I have to admit, Hank, when I heard that you were taking him home, I was a little nervous. I think we both know that you can be forgetful from time to time. I worried that perhaps you might leave the top off, and Fred would get out.”

  I burst out laughing, a little too loud and a little too hard. Frankie and Ashley joined in. We sounded like a pack of laughing hyenas.

  “Leave the top off!” I howled. “You must be thinking of someone else!”

  Principal Love bent down and took the tank from my hands.

  “Hello there, buddy,” he said to Fred. “Do you want to come inside with Daddy?”

  Just as he turned to head up the stairs, Cheerio let out several loud good-bye barks. Principal Love turned around, and I got a good look at the tank. Fred had jumped onto the glass and was hanging on with his little suction cups, looking down at Cheerio.

  “What’s all this about?” Principal Love asked.

  “They’re just saying good-bye,” I explained. “Fred and Cheerio became very good friends this weekend.”

  “A frog and a dog?” he said with a laugh.

  “You never know where good friends can come from,” I said.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Principal Love exclaimed.

  “It isn’t to Fred and Cheerio,” Frankie told him.

  “They had a lot of fun playing with their toys,” Ashley added.

  “Toys? What kind of toys co
uld these two possibly share?”

  “Oh, rose petals. Dirt. Aircraft carriers. Stuff like that,” I said.

  Principal Love looked confused, and I don’t blame him. You had to be there to believe it.

  “Well, in any case, I owe you my thanks for taking care of Fred and following the rules,” Principal Love said. “He obviously had a fine time.”

  “You know me,” I answered. “Following the rules is what I’m best at.”

  Cheerio looked at me, and I looked back at him.

  “Don’t you dare say a word,” I whispered to him.

  Principal Love turned and headed happily up the stairs toward his office. Frankie, Ashley, and I gave one another a big old high five. Even Cheerio got in on the action and lifted his paw.

  Sometimes it’s good to share secrets with your friends. Principal Love would never know that it took a search-and-rescue mission to find that frog!