Life According to Og the Frog

by Betty G. Birney

  The faster arrow must show the minutes. And there’s a tiny arrow that races around the circle for the seconds.

  Humans must be smarter than I thought!

  * * *

  The hour arrow moves completely around the clock several times as the weekend continues.

  That’s a long time, but at least I have clean water. And I’m used to not eating on a regular schedule like humans and hamsters do.

  It would be easy to sit on a rock or float on the water all day, but I would get soft and flabby. After all, in the swamp I was constantly leaping and hopping and moving from dry land to water and back.

  I decide to start an exercise program.

  First, I hop into my water bowl and splash as hard and fast as I can. Then, instead of resting on my rock, I do jumping jacks (an exercise that is named for a friend of mine back in the swamp), push-ups and big leaps.

  Each time, I leap a little higher than the time before.

  When I look up at the clock, a lot of time has passed. I’m so tired, I fall right to sleep.

  Before I know it, the door to Room 26 opens and Mrs. Brisbane walks in.

  “Og!” she says, rushing to my tank. “You’re okay! Miss Loomis told me it was fine for you to stay here alone, but I worried about you all weekend.”

  “I’m fine!” I tell her, hoping she’ll understand.

  “You certainly look well,” she says.

  I would think so! My skin is beautifully moist, and my muscles are in great shape for leaping.

  Then the door opens again. Garth and A.J. are back with Humphrey’s cage. I guess he wasn’t kidnapped after all! Or, if he was, they got tired of his squeaking and brought him back.

  Once Humphrey and his cage are back in place, he starts right in. “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK! SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!”

  He seems happy to be back.

  I decide to relax in the water, and after a while, the little fellow quiets down.

  Everything seems back to normal, until the girl named Gail starts giggling. She keeps looking at my tank and laughing.

  It turns out that someone has taped a funny note to my tank. I can’t see it, but Gail can’t stop giggling about it.

  The somebody who put it there is Kirk, who likes to make people laugh.

  He tells jokes a lot. Like this one: What kind of fly has a frog in its throat? A hoarse fly.

  I chuckled so hard, I almost croaked!

  Mrs. Brisbane takes the note off my tank, but I still can’t see it. It has something to do with kissing a frog.

  I wish I could tell the big tads that kissing is something we frogs don’t do.

  I haven’t been in Room 26 for long, but I think that Kirk likes to call attention to himself.

  In the swamp, that’s not always a smart thing to do. For instance, there are some very colorful and showy moths and dragonflies who love to swoop gracefully over the water.

  They’re pretty, but I must say, the showiest insects don’t last very long!

  But the toads, who are dull and plain, blend in with the mud and muck and hardly get noticed!

  Despite the interruption, our teacher gets class back on track quickly.

  While I was hoping to learn more about the life cycle of frogs, Mrs. Brisbane starts the day with something brand-new that she calls a spelling test. The good news is I learn some new words. I like the sound of the word jewel.

  She moves right from the test to the big tads’ poems.

  When the students read what they’ve written, I understand most of the words. Amazingly, frog is repeated a lot. So is Og. And Og is a part of frog.

  The poems are all great, but maybe Gail’s is my favorite.

  Og is a green frog,

  And he’s our classroom pet.

  I am? I’ve never thought of myself as a pet before. I’ve always been a very independent frog.

  Being Gail, she stops to giggle before she reads on.

  Of all the frogs I’ve ever seen,

  He’s the Best One Yet!

  Wow, that makes me want to giggle.

  Richie’s poem is very clever, too.

  Og the Frog

  Is not a dog.

  Or even a hog.

  He’s an amphibian

  But not from the Caribbean.

  Richie stumbles over amphibian and Caribbean, and the teacher makes him repeat them. (That happens a lot with Richie.)

  Then she calls on Tabitha to read her poem.

  Tabitha looks scared. She pats her pocket where she keeps Smiley hidden.

  Everybody’s waiting to hear, but so far she hasn’t opened her mouth.

  “Go on! It will be fine!” I boing in encouragement.

  Tabitha is startled, but she starts reading her poem. She goes so fast, it’s hard to hear it all.

  People-think-bears-are-mean-

  but-they’ve-never-seen-Smiley.

  He-doesn’t-growl-or-make-you-sad-

  he-wouldn’t-ever-be-bad-Smiley.

  I-don’t-care-what-people-say-

  he-helps-me-get-through-the-day-Smiley.

  There’s something sad about Tabitha and her poem. I don’t understand it, though. And I don’t understand why some of the other big tads roll their eyes when they hear what Tabitha says.

  “What a baby,” I hear someone whisper.

  After everybody shares a poem, Humphrey’s sad squeaks make me feel a little weird. Humphrey has been around longer than I have, but there aren’t any poems about him!

  Then Seth reminds him why. “We all still love you, too, Humphrey. But we can’t think of any words that rhyme with Humphrey or hamster. Do you understand?” he asks.

  Humphrey squeaks back.

  I’m not sure what he’s saying, but I can guess that he feels a little left out.

  That’s the way I felt back in the swamp when my best pal, Jumpin’ Jack, played leapfrog with somebody else.

  “Your name doesn’t rhyme, but mine does!” I try to explain to Humphrey. I don’t want him to be upset.

  He squeaks back at me—but who knows what he’s saying?

  I certainly don’t!

  My Secret Past

  THERE’S NOTHING LIKE a splashing contest with my pal Jumpin’ Jack. He splashes up a big wave, and I splash one even higher. Back and forth we go, until Granny Greenleaf tells us if we keep it up, there won’t be any water left! But as we say in the swamp, “There’s nothing better than getting muddy with a very special buddy!”

  Oops! The bell for recess rings. I guess I was daydreaming again. Now I’m even rhyming in my dreams.

  I notice that Sayeh doesn’t hurry out of the room. Instead, she waits for Tabitha to get to the door. I’m surprised, because Sayeh is shy and doesn’t like to talk. But she always tries her best and speaks from her heart. She’s like my cousin Lucy Lou, who always croaked the truth.

  “Way to go, Sayeh!” I encourage her. Maybe she’ll have better luck at making friends than Mandy did.

  I wish she understood the many meanings of boing!

  Sayeh does talk to Tabitha, which makes me hoppy. Tabitha looks as if she needs a friend.

  I am amazed to see that Tabitha is not friendly at all in return! She doesn’t even smile or walk out of the classroom with Sayeh.

  Why in the swamp would Tabitha ignore a nice girl like Sayeh? Is she stuck-up, like those bragging bullfrogs?

  Before I hop into the water to cool off, I hear the screeching of Humphrey’s wheel.

  Screech-screech-screech!

  The little guy seems upset.

  Did he see what happened between Tabitha and Sayeh?

  There’s no use asking him, because all he’d say is “SQUEAK!”

  I paddle around in the water for the rest of the afternoon. Being damp calms me down . . . a little.
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  Luckily, all that wheel running tires Humphrey out, and he disappears into his sleeping hut.

  It’s quiet now—the perfect time to relax. Float. Doze. Be.

  While I am daydreaming, I think up a little poem.

  There is something I don’t get

  About my fellow classroom pet.

  Humphrey is furry and he is small,

  But I can’t understand his squeaks at all!

  At least I manage to write a poem about Humphrey without trying to rhyme something with his name or the word hamster.

  I’m a poet and I didn’t know it!

  I can make words rhyme—

  at least some of the time!

  * * *

  After school, Mrs. Brisbane tidies up her desk. She reminds me of Granny Greenleaf. “Just because we live in the mud and the muck,” she’d say, “that’s no reason not to be tidy.”

  I am surprised when Miss Loomis comes into our classroom, carrying her coat.

  “Thanks for giving me a ride,” Miss Loomis says.

  “Anytime,” Mrs. Brisbane replies.

  “I have that information you wanted about Og’s past history,” Miss Loomis says.

  That news is very interesting to me. I hop up on my rock to hear what she tells my teacher.

  “Want to stop for coffee to warm up on the way home?” Mrs. Brisbane asks. “You can tell me all about it.”

  Miss Loomis thanks her and says, “I’d love to.”

  That’s all very nice for Mrs. Brisbane and Miss Loomis, but unless they take me along for coffee, I won’t know what they’re saying!

  While Mrs. Brisbane puts on her coat, Miss Loomis comes over to my tank.

  “How’s your star pupil doing?” she asks.

  Before Mrs. Brisbane can answer, Humphrey pops out of his sleeping hut and lets out a very loud “SQUEAK!”

  The two teachers laugh. Soon the two of them are gone, and Humphrey and I are alone . . . again.

  Naturally, my neighbor hops on his wheel. The endless stream of screeches is a little much for me.

  So I try to think of something else: the swamp.

  The end of the day in the swamp is busy and noisy.

  There are no bells ringing like there are at school. But there’s plenty of buzzing, chirping, flapping and even the occasional bloodcurdling howl. The chorus of bullfrogs is deafening, and of course, my green frog friends and I let out some hearty BOINGs so everyone will know we’re around, too!

  But once the humans have left Longfellow School and Humphrey jumps off his wheel, the room is as silent as a peeper frog who’s lost her voice. It’s almost too quiet.

  I guess Humphrey agrees, because before long, he starts squeaking at me again. I think the little fellow is trying to tell me something, but all I hear is “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” And on and on he goes.

  “I don’t understand a squeak you’re saying,” I tell him with a loud “BOING!”

  He squeaks back, and I BOING back. We are having a conversation, except for one thing: We can’t understand each other!

  I give up trying to talk, and that upsets Humphrey more.

  Luckily, Aldo arrives to clean the room. I have never been so hoppy to see anyone in my life! At least I can understand most of the things he says.

  He says his nephew Richie is happy that Room 26 has two classroom pets now.

  Oh, Aldo and Richie are related! And I guess Humphrey and I are both classroom pets. That’s something we have in common.

  He loses me when he talks about going back to school. Isn’t he in school right now?

  As he’s talking to Humphrey and me, he pulls out a piece of paper that must have something to do with his plan.

  Once he’s gone, I worry that Humphrey will want to have another chat, but this time he doesn’t even try.

  * * *

  Humphrey also gives me the silent treatment the next morning. But when the big tads come in, there is plenty of commotion in Room 26, especially since someone (Kirk again) has put a sign on Humphrey’s cage that has Gail giggling and the other students laughing, too.

  Humphrey scrambles up the side of his cage to try and see it and lets out a huge “SQUEAK!”

  I’m not sure whether it’s a happy squeak or not, and I can’t see the sign from my tank.

  “You think you’re so funny,” Mandy tells Kirk.

  “Because I am,” Kirk says.

  “It’s annoying,” Mandy replies.

  “Aw, Mandy, do you have to whine about everything?” Kirk asks.

  He turns to the other big tads. “I’m funny—right?”

  I guess he is, because everyone claps for Kirk except Mandy and Mrs. Brisbane, who gets class started.

  I think Kirk is funny, but he doesn’t always pick the right time for a joke.

  Back in the swamp, I had a friend named Gilly who was a very funny frog. She had a way of puffing up her body so that it would almost double in size. When she exhaled, she’d let out a wild, high-pitched BOING that made us other frogs laugh, at least most of the time.

  That’s why we called her Silly Gilly.

  But when Granny Greenleaf was giving us tads a lesson on cricket catching and Gilly did her trick, Granny got very upset with her.

  “There’s a time and a place for everything, Gilly,” she said. “And when I’m teaching an important lesson is definitely not the time for silliness!”

  The rest of us stopped giggling, and Gilly hung her head. Then, after lessons, Granny made Gilly repeat her trick over and over. She got so sick of it, she never repeated it again.

  So today, I’m thinking Kirk needs to learn when it’s a good time to be funny. And when it’s not.

  If only he could meet Granny Greenleaf!

  Suddenly, I hear our teacher say, “I talked to Miss Loomis and got some information about Og.”

  Everybody looks at her, even Richie and Art, who aren’t always paying attention.

  I wonder if Humphrey is listening. I know I am.

  “I asked Miss Loomis where Og came from,” she says.

  The big tads’ ears perk up. Mine would too, if I had ears, but all I have are circles under the skin that vibrate when sound hits them.

  “I found out that Og came from McKenzie’s Marsh—that’s a local pond,” she says.

  “Swamp!” I correct her. “McKenzie’s Marsh is a swamp.”

  “Oooh!” some of the students say.

  “Ahhh!” some other students say.

  “The grandfather of one of Miss Loomis’s students was fishing there one day, and he happened to see Og sunning himself on a rock,” she explains.

  I remember so well.

  I’d just finished having a leaping contest with my pal Jumpin’ Jack. I was tired from so much leaping, and Jack decided to look for a snack, so I was all alone on that nice sunny rock.

  Suddenly, everything went black and I couldn’t see a thing!

  “Gotcha,” a voice said, but I didn’t know what that meant. I’d never even heard a human voice so close before.

  I was bundled up and carried away. It wasn’t too far, but my skin was already starting to dry out. A frog’s skin should never dry out.

  Then suddenly I was uncovered, and I was sitting in a car. Of course, I’d never seen a car before.

  The large man looked down at me and mumbled something I couldn’t understand.

  He was smiling, but I wasn’t.

  He rummaged around in a box, then took out a bowl and poured water into it. He put the bowl on the floor of the car and set me in the water.

  Ah, relief! Thank goodness that grandfather knew frogs need damp skin.

  When the car began to move, the water sloshed around the bowl. The man talked to me, but all I heard was “Blah, blah, blah.”

 
I must admit, I was scared. Wouldn’t Jack and the other green frogs wonder what happened to me? I wondered what was going to happen to me.

  Everybody in the swamp knew about the terrible thing that happened to my cousin Gulper. He wasn’t paying attention one day (as usual). So when he saw a tempting worm, he grabbed it without noticing that the worm was attached to a fishing line.

  The last thing we saw was Gulper being reeled in and a human hand plopping him into a big bag.

  Poor Gulper. He was careless . . . but he was family.

  Hearing Mrs. Brisbane talk about my secret past makes me as rattled as a rattlesnake.

  “The grandfather thought he was a good-looking frog,” she continues. “And he thought his grandson might like him as a pet.”

  “No!” Miranda calls out. She’s shaking like a cattail in a windstorm. “That’s . . . kidnapping!”

  It’s actually frognapping, and I’m shaking just thinking about it.

  “I don’t know what to call it,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “The boy’s grandfather surprised him with Og. It was the student’s idea to share him with the rest of the class,” she continues. “Especially since they already had George. He thought they would be friends.”

  “Who was it? Which student?” Miranda asks.

  “I believe it was Austin March,” Mrs. Brisbane says.

  Heidi jumps up and stands next to her table. “Austin rides my bus! Boy, am I going to tell him off!”

  “That wouldn’t be fair,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “He’s not to blame.”

  “Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” A.J. says.

  “I’m sure his grandfather thought it was a good idea,” Mrs. Brisbane adds.

  “Bad idea!” I reply, wishing they could understand me, because it was such a bad idea. Why didn’t they ask George first?

  I know what he would have said. “RUM-RUM!”

  “So that’s how Og came to Longfellow School,” she says. “And aren’t we glad he did?”

  “No!” Sayeh stands up next to her table and speaks loudly.

  I am in shock. She’s not glad I’m in Room 26? Maybe she’s not as sweet as I thought.

  I wonder what Humphrey’s thinking . . . until I glance at his cage and see that he’s disappeared into his sleeping hut again. Isn’t he interested in my story?