She was a tiny little thing, barely the size of my pinky nail. The movement of her jumping was the only reason I spotted her on the asphalt. I considered tossing her down into a treatment pit where I could hear her compatriots croaking, but I knew their time was limited, as the whole area was scheduled to be demo'd.
Having always wanted a pet frog as a kid, I did a quick check to make sure I hadn't just grabbed an endangered species (nope, most common kind of frog in southern California), and decided to take her home with me.
Fun fact, the distinctive "ribbit ribbit" heard in movies is the call of the Baja Tree Frog.
[Image description: a close-up of a mottled brown frog sitting on a branch. The frog has its front feet tucked together underneath its belly.]
She looks quite happy, though admittedly, it could be gas.
Good decision. Live and help live.