The Tadpole Express has already departed, along with his replacement.
The Tadpole Express departed sometime early Wednesday morning. He didn't even say goodbye. Bailey was the one to tell me he had left with the memorable words, "my tadpole just died, he's just dead." And there he was without any explanation, belly up, along with all of our tadpole raising ambitions.
Bailey was upset so my answer was to get a replacement. Daddy and Bailey were actually the ones to pick him up on Wednesday evening. Their journey home was one for the record books. It involved a leaking bag with four holes, a tadpole ending up first in a Target sack, which also had holes discovered and then finally in a dumped out soda cup where he felt a bit cramped. According to Daddy, it was the longest drive home. Ever.
The second version of Tadpole Express had large back legs and as fascinating as he was, he too departed as quick as he came. By Thursday morning he was gone. And I left him in a bowl, hoping for a miracle. By the afternoon when I had caught Bailey holding him in her hand and saw the squeeze marks on him and the laceration on his corpse, I knew he was indeed dead, and if he hadn't been, he would've been after that strangulation hold.
There will be no more replacements after that one. Our experiment will be saved for another time, for another year. After all, we've had far too many amphibian-related entries on this blog lately, and that's just not suitable for anybody.
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