“After it rains, these start appearing in my toilet. Can you guess what they might be?”

They weren’t parasites at all — they were tadpoles, the first delicate stage of frog life, accidentally born in the quiet water of an unused toilet. Heavy rains had driven adult frogs to seek out any hidden, wet refuge, slipping through open windows, vents, or outdoor drains until they discovered this still, porcelain “pond.” There, in the most unlikely place, they laid their eggs.

Those eggs hatched into tiny swimmers, turning my initial fear into reluctant fascination. I could flush them away in seconds, or gently scoop them into a jar and carry them to a real pond, giving their tiny story a chance to continue. Closing the lid, covering drains, and sealing gaps keeps them from returning. But knowing what they were changed something: my bathroom stopped feeling haunted and began to feel like a secret doorway, where wild nature had briefly slipped inside.