Toads: The Fifth Food Group

The highlight of Max's day is when we put the leashes on our three dogs and go for a walk. Max and his buddy Rufus play in the yard all day, but there's no substitute for the walk. It seems to fill a doggy psychological need. Even if we talk a short walk, Max always comes back refreshed and relaxed.

When we walk, Max has to wear a head harness or he leaps and lunges uncontrollably. The harness fits loosely over his head and attaches to the leash. If he tries to lunge, the harness pulls his head sideways, something he doesn't like. So Max walks like a small gentleman, head erect, looking straight ahead.

In harness, Max ignores other dogs, cats and even the occasional rabbit. (Out of harness, these things turn him into a raging, frothing mini-tornado.) But he has one weakness: toads. There are plenty of toads in our neighborhood during the summer, and there's always one hopping across our path and under Max's long nose. When this happens, there's a quick jerk on the leash, a snap and the poor creature is ready for Toad Heaven.

But with the delights of killing amphibians also comes Toad's Revenge. The toad releases a foul-tasting fluid that gives Max a bad case of "Aggghh! What's in my mouth? Help, I'm dying!"

Despite this, Max continues to bite toads. I guess his little psycho-pooch brain is long on aggression and short on consequences. I hope he never meets a skunk.