Not in Our Family

I never thought it could happen in our family. I’ve heard about it before. About neighborhood kids being warned not to play with THOSE children because their… About families having to move away because they couldn’t stop it… About the hallucinations and the addiction and the drooling… About trying to pull him away time and time again, all the while knowing that he doesn’t really recognize me or maybe even see me.

It’s happened in our yard, with our baby. Harry, our sweet, people-loving, wonderful Labradoodle, is a toad licker.

At first, I thought it was funny. Then he started to foam at the mouth, slobbering and smacking his lips continuously. I’d read about dogs addicted to toad licking before and know that toads in other parts of the country exude secretions so toxic that dogs can die from licking them. But, apparently, they die happy.

His sister Bess contented herself with chasing a moth under the spotlight. Not Harry. He followed the toad into every dark cranny, lunging to pick it up, over and over again. His mouth must have gotten numb fairly quickly. Thanks to that and Harry’s “soft” Lab mouth, so highly prized in retrievers, the toad escaped unharmed each time. That toad was covered in slime, despite what naturalists tell you about amphibians. Toad suckin’ dogs generate a lot of slime.

I finally got him to take care of business in the grass and pulled him into the house by the collar. Bess followed happily lured by the promise of a cookie. Harry lumbered to the water bowl and refilled it with slobber.

I tell people to check everything on Snopes. I looked. This isn’t on Snopes. But you can Google “dogs that lick toads” and see photos of cane toads and Colorado toads and giant toads and marine toads. All guilty of dealing to dogs.

With a little luck, you won’t see Harry’s picture posted yet. He’s a first offender.