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"Probably under the door." Robert pointed to the two inch space from where the threshold had been removed to lay the tile. He then washed his hands and headed off to get the pizza.

And I thought this darn tile project would only brake my back, my nails and my patience. I didn't count on it scaring me half to death. Can't stand much more excitement around here. ¨

I kept hearing a rustling sound in my kitchen as I stood over the sink eating lunch. I assumed it was the wind coming through the dryer vent and rustling the plastic that was taped to the walls for this infernal tile project in our kitchen remodeling scheme. Then I saw it...a mean, brown and tan striped, knobby textured toad. It was bigger than any cockroach and I wasn't going near it.

"It's only a toad," I reminded myself. "It has four legs. It is not a snake." I dialed my husband's office number. After 10 minutes of increasing panic he finally came on the line.

"Leave it until I come home," Robert laughed. "I don't have time to deal with this now. I've got England on the other line and have to go pick up pizza for this crew."

"I don't dare leave it," I cried. "He might hop into the living room and crawl under the couch and have babies and then where will we be?!"

"He will have babies?" inquired Rob.

"You know what I mean."

"Really, it's just a toad. Deal with it."

"I can't deal with it. It's very ugly and I don't want it to crawl under the plastic and die. A dead toad is even worse." The more I talked with Robert, the more panicky I became. It's quite one thing to cohabitate with toads outside. In my house is another matter all together.

"So it's ugly. What's the problem?"

"It's a girl thing. You wouldn't understand.

"Are you laughing or crying?"

"Both. Look, never mind. I'll find someone else to save me. Maybe Stanley, next door, is home. Maybe I can call the animal rescue league."

"I'm on my way," sighed Sir Galahad at the thought of having someone else dispose of this dragon and find out what a hopeless wimp his damsel really was.

In the eon it took Robert to get home, I grabbed a laundry basket. I was serious about not wanting it to go beyond the breakfast room. There are too many good places to hide, have babies, poop and die--none of which I wanted on my carpet. Holding the basket at arms length, I waited till he was away from the wall, and on the third attempt, managed to toss it over him. Then I waited, guarding the basket, hoping the thing wouldn't find a way out. Finally I heard Rob's car in the driveway.

"Did you bring your whip and chair?" I asked.

"No. How big is it?"

"Oh at least six feet," I answered pointing at the two and a half inch creature through the slats of the laundry basket.

"It's just a baby," cooed Robert. "Come here little fellow." I handed Rob a small coffee can and his industrial strength rubber gloves. He lifted the corner of the basket and after several attempts, managed to get the can over the toad.

"You're hurting his little foot," I cried, seeing it stick out from under the can.

Robert, now certain that I was totally crazy, fixed the can. Then he scootched it over to the edge where the tile was missing, put the lid on the sub floor, and scootched the can over it. Sir Galahad took our wayward dragon to the back yard and deposited him next to the rose bush.

"Take him far enough away that he won't get any ideas that he liked it in here and want back in," I warned Rob. Robert merely shook his head and laughed. No toad would be dumb enough to want back in with this crazy lady.

"How do you think he got in," I asked?

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