You don't usually think of a bullfrog as a pet, but I had one back in the 1980s. I remember him well. I never checked his gender, but he looked like a “he” to me. He lived at our house for about three years. Let me tell you about him.

I sent away for a bullfrog pollywog from a company that sold water lilies. One was all I wanted. We had built a cement goldfish pond in our backyard. It had a waterfall that came out of an old pitcher pump. What a perfect setting for a bullfrog.

The mail carrier that delivered him asked what was in the box. She could sense water moving around in there. I told her, “It's a baby gater.” She believed me. Why, oh why, do I always say the first thing that pops into my mind? She was horrified. I opened the box and there he was! A six inch bullfrog pollywog.

I put the pollywog, still in the bag, into the pond to acclimate him to the temperature of that water. About an hour later, I opened the bag and turned him loose. I don't know what the goldfish thought of their new companion, but Mr. Bullfrog was home.

Feeding the bullfrog pollywog wasn't a problem. Mt husband had hung a bug zapper over the water. You should have seen those goldfish snatching the zapped bugs when they fell into the water. My bullfrog pollywog thrived and soon turned into an olive green bullfrog. He would spend the summer there, the next one, too.

Come autumn, I brought him into the house for the winter. A large fish tank in the basement with about 2 inches of water and a rock for him to sit on was his home for that winter and the next one as well. The poor guy didn't eat all winter. I couldn't find any bugs for him. A screen atop the tank kept him isolated. Come spring, he went back out to the fish pond.

This went on for three summers. Not wanting to imprison him again for the winter, I decided to set him free. A small nearby gravel pit with deep enough water that did not freeze would be his new home. It was a cold Fall day when Anne and I took him on his last ride. I remember placing him at the water's edge. He swam out a ways, then turned back to look at us. It was almost as if he was saying “Goodbye.” Then he turned again and slowly, with long lopes of his huge hind legs, slowly swam out of sight into the deeper water. That was the last we would see of him. I did go over there the next summer and sit by the water. I did hear frogs croaking, but not my bullfrog.

People have all sorts of pets. I have had a variety of dogs and cats through the years. Even had a couple of parakeets, but they didn't live long. By the way, what is the normal life expectancy for a bullfrog?