It’s a frog statue that croaks. Not quietly, but with dramatic flair. You walk by, and suddenly Cromwell sings you into a state of both confusion and amusement. Motion-activated, because frogs apparently need their spotlight moments.

I tried to film him serenading my cat, but the cat fled—probably traumatized by the intensity of frog opera. Cromwell is the kind of friend who shows up uninvited, sings loudly, and yet you can’t help but welcome him.

Indoor or outdoor, this frog doesn’t discriminate in delivering his croaky performances. It’s a weird thing, but a wonderful thing, turning quiet corners into amphibian concert halls. Take a bow, Cromwell.