Bibi was a little golden dog with a heart full of love but a mind full of fears. He wasn’t afraid of thunder, or the vacuum cleaner, or even the big, grumpy cat that lived next door. No, Bibi’s greatest fear in the entire world was… a toad.
It wasn’t just any toad. It was the toad. A big, bumpy, ugly green thing that sat in the middle of the garden, right where Bibi liked to run. Every time Bibi saw it, his little paws froze, his ears shot straight up, and his tail tucked itself between his legs. His heart would thump wildly, and he would let out a high-pitched yelp before bolting back into the house like his life depended on it.
Bibi’s owner, a kind boy named Sam, found it hilarious. “Bibi, it’s just a toad,” he would say, scooping up the trembling dog. “It’s not going to eat you.”
But Bibi didn’t believe him. That toad was a monster.
One warm evening, Sam decided to take Bibi for a walk around the garden. The sun was setting, and the air smelled like fresh grass and blooming flowers. Bibi happily trotted along, sniffing every bush and chasing fireflies. Life was good.
Then, it happened.
Bibi turned the corner and—there it was.
The toad.
It sat in the middle of the stone pathway, its fat little body perfectly still. But Bibi knew it was watching him. Its tiny, beady eyes blinked once.
Bibi’s heart stopped.
He let out a panicked bark and leaped backward, his paws scrabbling against the dirt. His fluffy tail bristled like a frightened squirrel’s. He tried to run, but his legs got tangled, and—thump!—he tumbled backward into a bush.
Sam doubled over with laughter. “Bibi! It’s just a toad!”
But Bibi was done. He refused to move. He lay in the bush, panting, while the toad continued sitting there, as if mocking him.
The next day, Bibi tried to forget about the horrible creature. He stayed inside, napping on Sam’s bed and pretending the toad didn’t exist. But as soon as Sam opened the door to the garden, Bibi’s ears twitched nervously. Was it out there? Waiting?
Sam chuckled. “Come on, Bibi. You have to be brave.”
Bibi wasn’t so sure.
Days passed, and Bibi did everything he could to avoid the toad. If Sam wanted to go into the garden, Bibi would refuse. If he heard a noise outside, he would peek through the window first. He even started using the other side of the yard to do his business, just to avoid going near that spot.
But the toad always seemed to be there. Sitting. Watching. Unmoving.
Then, one fateful evening, something changed.
Sam was inside watching TV when he heard a strange sound from the garden. It wasn’t barking or whining—it was a tiny, pitiful whimper.
Sam rushed outside, and his eyes widened.
There, in the middle of the path, was Bibi—stuck.
His leash had gotten tangled around a bush, and he couldn’t move. He wiggled and squirmed, but he was completely trapped. And worst of all… the toad was right in front of him.
Bibi was frozen in terror. He could barely breathe.
Sam ran over, but just as he reached for Bibi’s leash—hop!
The toad moved.
Bibi yelped so loudly that Sam nearly jumped out of his shoes. The little golden dog squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.
But then… nothing happened.
Slowly, Bibi opened one eye.
The toad wasn’t charging at him. It wasn’t baring its teeth (did toads even have teeth?). It wasn’t doing anything scary at all.
It was just… sitting there.
And then, in the soft glow of the porch light, something unexpected happened.
The toad blinked.
