So after taking Maisy out to go pee one last time in the front yard, I lock in her in the kitchen, grab my stuff, and head to the garage. There, between me and my car, is a huge toad. No, no, no, no. I do not want squished toad guts in my garage. I try to scoot him with my foot out the garage door. But NOOOOOO, he goes under the car next to my tire.
I called son down to help me shoo the toad from under my car. Do you know what toads do when threatened? They freeze. They don't move. Not one muscle. So I finally get a good angle on him with a soft broom and I'm pushing an immobile toad across the garage floor. Finally, when I get him close to the bushes (his little toad butt should have been sore by then!), he hops away to hide. Good.
Grab my stuff again, get in the car, back out, close the garage door, and start driving to the end of the driveway...when around the corner of the house comes Maisy with a concerned look on her face. Mom? Uh Mom?
Put the car in park, open the garage door, get Maisy inside, close the garage door, and off again.