Last night I let the dogs out for their last walk of the night. My fox terrier is content to sniff around and do her thing, but my Westie has so much pent up energy these days, I decided to take her for a sprint. We were running near the lake behind my parents' house when Honey did an abrupt u-turn. I looked to see what made her stop, and I saw a duck. Honey loves to chase ducks. Knowing her, I freaked out. Knowing me, she hit the ground like there was an air raid incoming. I scooped her up and turned to walk back.

Then I noticed the duck had no head. Thoughts of a chupacabra came to mind as I stared morbidly. Then I saw eyes. Huge, black, round eyes. A headless duck with eyes? Then I saw the big, gaping mouth, the warty back, and the fat limbs. It was a cane toad. A cane toad the size of a duck.

In the 1930s, some bright soul decided to introduce Bufo marinus to agricultural areas, specifically to control the cane beetle. The toads were introduced to the U.S., Caribbean, Australia, and even southeast Asia. They are native to the Central and South American rain forests, where they eat bugs to grow big and fat - making them the biggest, fattest toad in the world.

Great idea, right? Well, it turns out that cane toads don't really hop all that well. They're too big, and cane beetles fly and live higher than the toads are willing to go for a meal. Instead, these toads feast on everything from other insects and toads to rodents and small birds.

The toad also secretes a milky white poison from parotid glands on its neck, right behind the shoulders. One lick and you'll croak: bufotoxin can cause skin and eye irritation, vomiting, diarrhea, seizures, and convulsions. Cane toads have killed countless numbers of animals, including dogs, cats, raccoons, snakes, alligators, and crocodiles. Every stage of the toad's life cycle is poisonous, and they're prolific breeders, with reports of females laying upwards of 50,000 eggs. Tragically, cane toads have been linked to human deaths in Southeast Asia when people misidentified the strings of slimy eggs and accidentally cooked them in a stew.

I have been to the vet more times than I can count. The first time we had no idea what was going on. The second, my dad let Tipper get a toad because didn't listen to me say it was toxic. We started walking the dogs cautiously at night, then they rooted out toads during the day. I've found that if I rinse the dog's mouth out right away and massage her gums with a damp rag, I can usually take care of the problem. As far as they're concerned, a cane toad is a blubbery ball that bounces itself. Now we've freaked out enough times that they don't lunge for them too often.

Before last night I hadn't seen a cane toad this season, and about a minute before I saw the behemoth I thought to myself, "You know, this drought may have staved off the cane toads this year." Yeah right. I stared in disbelief at the massive toad in the grass, and then watched as it turned and clumsily hopped off into the darkness.