Ode to a tiny green tree frog

I have a tiny green tree frog and it brings me luck.

Laugh if you like, but it's true.

In fact, the tiny green tree frog of which I speak has had mystical powers since it was first bestowed upon me by my daughter at the tender age of three.

I discovered the little plastic replica jammed between two seat cushions in my pickup, in between a candy wrapper and a wad of discarded Gummy Bears.

"Sweetheart, you forgot your toy," I said, holding out the dime-sized frog to her as she disembarked her flowered car seat. She took it, turned it slowly in front of her face, then offered it back.

"I want you to have it, Daddy," she said sweetly, her long eyelashes batting away beneath a woolen winter cap like Cindy Lou Who from Dr. Suess's How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

If that sequence of events doesn't bestow mystical power on an inanimate object, I'm not sure what will.

So, I slipped the tattered tiny green tree frog into a front shirt pocket and plopped a kiss on my precious daughter's forehead.

"I shall cherish it forever," I told her, not fully comprehending the complete significance of the statement.

From that moment forward, the luck emanating from that tiny green tree frog has been nothing short of miraculous.

Because of its near supernatural abilities, however, I have saved the tiny green tree frog's mystical power for only the specialist of occasions.

Like hunting season.

Oh, and brook trout season.

And there was that one golf tournament with my Dad, but I am sworn to secrecy on that so as to uphold the sanctity of the match.

Anyway ... the tiny green tree frog began proving its mystical amphibian powers the very first hunting season I carried it.

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