Two weeks had passed and I still hadn’t figured out how to feed my horny toad. It was time to let him go. What an expensive mistake!
Late summer was when the older boys started hanging around the athletic field next door. After several weeks of tossing hay bales, they were ready to prove how tough they were tossing a football. I was too young for that. Besides, we had just moved here from the mission field, and I didn’t know the first thing about football. Everything in a little East Texas town was new to this little boy from a big city in Mexico.
Including the horny toads. I had spotted more than one of them at the edge of the football field. They were exotic, and I just had to have one. But horny toads are scary, what with the spikes all over their sturdy little bodies, and the blood…. I was told that they’ll squirt you with blood from behind their eyes if they see that you’ve got them cornered.
Let’s call the older boy Biff. He saw the commotion of me chasing one of the little monsters and came over to investigate. “Ain’t you gonna catch him?” asked Biff.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Can you catch it for me?”
“You sissy!” Biff was partly right. I’ve exercised plenty of courage in my day, but reptiles and their sort still make me squeamish.
“I’ll pay you,” I offered.
“How much you got?”
“Three dollars.” I had left Mexico with eight dollars in my little toy safe, and three of them were now in my pocket.
“Three dollars!” hooted Biff. “I’m a wheeler and a dealer!” That’s exactly what he said; I remember like it was yesterday. “A wheeler and a dealer!”
Biff caught the horny toad, and took it next door to my house for me. There, for some reason, I already had a five gallon fish tank.
The horny toad sat on some rocks I had placed in the tank for him, along with a saucer of water. I watched him through the glass, and he watched me. He must have been wondering what I’d bring him for dinner. He watched… and waited. Nothing. Two weeks is a long time to wait.
And so, I let him go.
(image by “elliepeek” on Pixabay)
