We have a squatter. Three times now I’ve found him as I open the back door. The first time he was hard to miss, jumping across the door frame at eye level. The next two times he was hunkered down inside the track.
He’s small, maybe the size of two of my fingers, medium green with dark green markings down his back and legs. He may not be a he. I don’t know how to tell with frogs.
I was afraid I was going to squish him but now I’m pretty sure there is enough space between the sliding door and the track that he is safe in his chosen spots.
I still chase him back out into the garden off the side of the deck. By chase I mean I encourage him gently, of course, because I don’t want to hurt him. I want him in the garden eating bugs rather than sneaking into our house where the cat might find him. I’m not sure the cat would know what to do with the frog but I really don’t want to find out.
The last time I chased him out I was going out to do some weeding and he watched me from underneath the thyme.