For weeks, we've had a frog in our pantry.
He wasn't a particularly quiet frog, either. Three or four times a day, he'd let lose a belly-ful of loud croaks. Each time he belted out, I took a flashlight, crept up to the pantry, and tried to find the little fella. No luck.
Until this morning. Aha! There he is, crouched in the fold of a plastic bag holding some dog biscuits (with some great big frog-sized turds next to him).
I pressed a plastic cup over the bag and carried the frog, bag and dog biscuits and all, outside and released him near the (now-empty) chicken coop.
A few years ago, we had a frog live the entire winter in our canning closet, surviving on heaven-knows-what. I didn't want this to happen again to our latest visitor.
He seemed happy to be outside, though perhaps I'm ascribing too much emotion to an amphibian.
Regardless, now he's free to start preparing for winter. Au revoir, little froggie.