Leopold the Frog

Oobi walked through the field; it was one of his favorite places. The area was green and grassy soft, and the trees were low enough to the ground so that when the wind would blow, a soft whistle would roll up through the branches. Oobi sat at the edge of an emerald pond, the algae rich and the tall grasses blended in with some of the reeds. The frogs croaked, the fronds would hum and Oobi silently sat cross legged smelling and listening to the breezes. Cannubi rolled on his back and growled. He huffed and huffed and smelled the green grasses too.

A small ground animal whistled past Cannubi’s nose, perhaps a ground mouse, or a chipmunk, and Cannubi jumped to all of his feet and barked. “No rodent’s getting past me.” He barked, and off he ran. His body lunged through the high grasses, quickly disappearing.

Oobi rolled over onto his stomach then slid his hands under his chin, and held his face close to the edge of the pond. He imagined he was the size of dragonfly or one of the small birds that was perching on the reeds like an acrobat. He blew his breath across the grass and watched the blades shiver. His whole body relaxed. “Ah,” he thought.

A frog jumped in front of his vision. It was a big frog, green as the algae that floated on top, with black spots handsomely painted on his body. The frog crooked at Oobi then looked blankly at him. “Needeep.” The frog declared. “Needeep.”

Oobi watched the frog as the frog stared back.  Oobi got up and ran to his bike.

The wind rushed past his face as he pedaled and he held his head back to smell the fresh air as it blew by him.  When he got to his house, he threw the bike down on the ground and ran into the home. He blew past his mother who was standing by the doorway polishing a table. He ran up the stairs and down the hallway to where his room was, and rushed to his closet that held boxes and mysteries of his best-kept secrets. There were sticks of different shapes, hats from different worlds, and boxes for different treasures, were stacked and shoved into this overstuffed closet. Baseball cards tumbled to the ground, and baseball caps dotted the space like tatter tot Frisbees.

Oobi found the perfect box. It was oblong in shape; a box that at one time held his tennis shoes, his soldiers, and green moss that at a time he wanted to paint. Out the room he raced, down the steps he bounded, and out the door he flew. Oobi jumped on his bicycle and headed back to his field. Sliding the bike to the ground, Oobi parted the high grasses and followed the line back to where he was lying on the ground. There, never moving, but still croaking sat the frog. And as he had said before, again he looked flatly at Oobi and said:”Needeep!”

Oobi opened the box and scooped the frog inside. He held it tightly to his chest and whistled for Cannubi. Together, they went back home, Oobi whistling an aimless tune.

Oobi had made a pond in the back for his frog that he named Leopold. He took a wadding pool and filled it with water. He took rocks from the yard and stacked them inside of the pool, and then he took dirt and stacked it high to the pool, so that it reminded him and the frog of his field. He took reeds and stuck them into the soft dirt. He took leaves and branches and made the small area like the field for the frog. Leopold sat on the rocks and croaked. “Needeep.” It sang. “Needeep.” Oobi folded his arms and smiled.

In three days Oobi had made the area a small zoo. He had fenced it in, he had decorated it, he even created an overhang so that the frog could find shelter if it rained. Oobi collected water bugs and scattered them across the wadding pool. He placed an old candy wrapper on the side so that flies would swarm past the frog. He even found a clacker so that he could make frog sounds back to the frog. “Rid dip,” clacked Oobi.

“Needeep.” Went the frog.

Oobi’s zoo thrived for some time. Everyday after school he would rush to the frog, and everyday he would lie on the ground and clack to the frog.  The frog would ‘Needeep’ back. There, Leopold was king of the wadding pool.

One day Oobi was clacking to Leopold, but this time he noticed that the frog was not responding. He looked at the frog that sat listlessly with his eyes half closed, then walked into the house and told his mother that Leopold wasn’t looking to well. He thought that maybe they should take the frog to a veterinarian. She agreed and took Oobi and the frog to see the Doctor.

At the hospital the veterinarian examined the frog. The doctor looked at the frog and the frog looked back. “Needeep.” Went the frog. “Needeep,” it told the doctor. The doctor lifted the frog and looked it up and down. He slid glasses over glasses so that he could get a better look. The frog looked bigger, but no different. “Needeep.” Went the frog. Finally the doctor gave the frog back to Oobi and declared,” There’s nothing wrong with this animal other than maybe a little stress. You should leave it alone and perhaps it will feel better.”

On the way home Manubi looked at Oobi. “Boy.” She said,” you need to let that poor frog go. It wants to go home.”

“Mama,” Oobi said,” the doctor, says there’s nothing wrong but maybe Leopold is tired.”

“Let the frog go boy, before it dies.” She patted him on the head as she turned the wheel and pulled the car into the driveway. “You can’t keep something that belongs to God,” she said, as Oobi opened the car door.

Oobi rode his bike to the field. The long blades of grass waved at the boy on his bike as he parted them like a two-wheeled ship. The perforated box secured to his bike acted like a prow past the sheaves. He parked, dismounted from his bike, and walked the long walk to the algae green pond. “Good-bye,” he murmured to the frog that was shadowed in the box. “I hope you’ll be happy here. But I’ll miss you.”

And with that, Oobi let the frog out of the box. In two hops the frog disappeared into the water. And in two hops life was back to what it was. He saw how beautiful the green was, and how sweet the smells were, and he knew that Leopold was as indeed homesick as he was unable to duplicate this place. “I’m sorry Leopold, I’ll hope you’ll forgive me. I was just trying to make a better place for you than you already had. I guess I can’t. I’m sorry.”