I always take a peek into the pool upon arriving home to make sure no debris has been blown in or some pool boy hasn't been floating face down too long. Yesterday, just as a driving rain began I found Mr. Frog on the top step; he was croaking, "Help me; help me". Mr. Frog is the master of the garden; I once saw him wearing a T-shirt that read, No Fly Too Big. I phoned Mr. Astor to come out of the house quickly and grab a camera; "But, be careful", I warned. Leopoldo slowly came out the door, carefully looking back and forth. "Hurry!", I screamed. He handed me the camera and I got the shot of Mr. Frog. (Mr. Astor had thought there was some possum or alligator in the yard.) By now it was pouring and I instructed Leopoldo to take the camera and a bag of twelve picture hats du Barry had made for the pool party into safety while I scooped Mr. Frog out. The thought of losing Mr. Frog made me shudder; how life can so easily be lost. What if I had come home much later or gone through another entrance? Mr. Astor suggested he might have been a prince and was actually saying, "Kiss me; kiss me". That silly man; I already have one.