A Froggin' we will go!

Summer was in full swing and White Lake showed its health in a plethora of frogs. Now frogs are something Spencer’s never encountered before. I introduce him to numerous frogs sunning on the grasses by the lake. Sometimes we come across the same trio of frogs who routinely bask near a culvert on Lakeside Lane. See, Spencer; see??!! Get ‘em, boy. Get ‘em! (Now, I don’t want him to actually get them, but I do want to pique his interest in something other than the walk.)

At first he was oblivious to both the frogs and my entreaties but once he caught on, he was fascinated! I’m not sure he can really see them; they're masters of camouflage! Sometimes he’s almost on top of them before he actually notices them, but he must be able to smell them. He has no interest in taking them into his mouth or to paw at them; he just loves to jump when they jump! Sideways, backwards, forwards, up…whatever direction is needed. He’s never yet landed on one or hurt one; he just loves the jumping chases across the grass until they lose him in the water, of course. He still refuses to wade in even if those interesting little jumpers do head there. He stares dejectedly after the disappeared frog for a second or two before heading off to find another.

Occasionally he encountered a larger, more experienced frog. This type had a different survival tactic: simply sit still. It seemed to know if it didn't move, the danger passed. Spencer pawed at the ground an inch from the frog. No go. He tried it from the frog’s rear. No go. From the side. No go. I myself was amazed at this frog's behaviour. Spencer lay down, head resting on his paws, nose a mere inch from the frog and stared intently, after all, the smell was spot on! “C’mon, Spence,” I said, chuckling at his persistence “This one’s no fun.”

One evening there was an exception. It was just after dusk, really getting dark (I was late taking him out.) We proceeded on our usual route, around the park, into the summer park, past the drinking hole and along the lakeshore, his favourite frogging place. “A frog, a frog; I’ve found a frog!” his excitement and enervated body language made me laugh out loud as he cavorted looking froglike himself in answering his target’s jumps with jumps of his own. But then the unthinkable happened. He jumped right into the lake! Obviously he hadn’t realized where land ended and water began. With the leash, I reeled him in, hand over hand, like a big old flopping carp. He couldn’t seem to figure out what had gone wrong. But he’s never made that mistake again. Maybe we’ll work on swimming next summer.