Last night there was a rustling in the hard-to-name-room between our kitchen and our garden. It stopped when I went to investigate, and I was unable to find it, so I assumed that we had a four-legged squatter, and deferred attempts to catch it until it made itself more visible. I then forgot about it.
This morning walking into said hard-to-name-room, I noticed a small object against the step that divides it from the kitchen. A small object that hadn't been there before. A very still, very dry toad, which on very close investigation was breathing softly. So I picked it up carefully and evicted it. After a brief pause where I wondered if the shock of an airlift had killed it, it moved off, and crawled under something in the flower bed. I think that it's happier in the garden.