It's dark. We come home. We turn into the drive. Suddenly the Fox slams on the brakes.
"What's that?" he asks.
I peer out of the window to see what he's pointing at. At first I think it's just a leaf. Then I realise it's far too thick for a leaf. It's a frog!
We sit there. It sits there. Eventually I conclude the only thing is to get out of the car & move the frog, otherwise it will be one squashed frog.
I make sure I'm wall-side of the frog & move close. It takes one hop. I move closer. So it is, one hop at a time, we move across the drive to the front garden. By now my back is to the drive ready to stop the frog changing his mind & hopping back the way he came. The Fox hastily drives in & parks.
He can't help laughing. The sight of me bending over, trying to shepherd the frog out of the way has apparently been quite a sight. He isn't sure which of us, the frog or I, is the slower moving. He suspects 'tis I.
We say our goodnights to the frog & retreat into the warmth of our home. The security light stays on as the frog continues his night hunt in the front garden.
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