Hopping Thing

I was born fully formed in the year of the toad while my siblings still flopped in the mud.
I had a keen smile and milky white eyes.
I was the one, I had become, and so I got on with my game.
If I caught just the one they would never run, refusing to believe their eyes.
Me in all my slime and glory.
I would fall upon them, hug them tight, suck out the soft and fling the skinbag.
But when I jumped out on my first pair of lovers, why then I first knew I was legend. There by the water he told her: here was the Hopping Thing, hoppity hop, lived in the reeds and preyed on the careless. Ate his own and lived alone. Run if you hear him gibber
Well I never.
Come here my little chickies.
Hug.
Suck.
Fling.