They weren’t parasites at all, but tadpoles — the first fragile stage of frog life, accidentally born in the quiet water of an unused toilet. Heavy rain 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 that turned my 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, where their strange little story might 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 started feeling like a secret doorway where wild nature had briefly slipped inside.