When Linda went back inside, a spot on the living room rug caught her eye. It hopped, and then she remembered the froglet that had jumped from the tank to who-knew-where. It jumped again. She grabbed the net, while it jumped yet again, and she lost sight of it. Following its general direction, she located it under the couch. It had hopped all the way to the wall behind it. She reached under, trying to net it, but it wouldn’t budge from the baseboard molding and she feared squishing it. Throughout the pursuit, she kept calling my name, to no avail.
Finally I went, in and realizing immediately what was going on, I grabbed the smaller net, pulled the couch away from the wall, and dangled my entire torso over the back of it, hoping it wouldn’t topple. (Don’t settle for a cheap couch, in case this happens to you. You need something that’ll hold your weight in an emergency.) I couldn’t grab it with the net, but managed to coax it into Linda’s net. Into the transport box it went, which I had just brought back from outside.
We put it out there like we had with the others. Again the other froglets showed up, approaching, but keeping their distance. This one stayed in the open transport box for much longer than they had, clearly traumatized by preceding events. It seemed to know it was in a safe place, and was probably waiting for us to leave.
After several weeks of indifference, the cat has just recently taken an interest in the Tiny Tank, having noticed that it contains wiggly things.
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