Possum has been unusually quiet since yesterday. About an hour ago, he admitted that he was disappointed in the papal election. He'd been hoping privately that a miracle would happen and that he'd be elected the first Norwegian pope in absentia. (I decided not to explain to him that he'd have to be a cardinal to get elected. He'd probably give me a withering stare and say that, with God, all things are possible. And that cats are superior to old men in dresses, pretending to be birds.)
He had already chosen his papal name, "Lardo," because it sounded suitably Italian and, if there ever was a Saint Lardo, he certainly wasn't getting enough recognition. I liked his choice, and said it was snappy, original, and descriptive. He didn't understand what I meant by "descriptive," but he was pleased to hear it all the same. Then he said he wasn't completely sure of his choice and would like some help in thinking up alternatives, just in case the cardinals realized they'd made a mistake and hold another papal election soon.
This would have been his official papal portrait.
Possum thinks it's too bad that popes can't keep their Christian names when they are elected.
"It's his Christian name!" said Possum. "What's the matter with that?"
I said, "If you don't know the answer, I guess you aren't ready to become pope yet.
He said, "But 'Pope Possumus' would have been both Latin and elegantly alliterative."
I love how Possum uses big words. Where does he learn them? I rubbed his considerable, fluffy belly to cheer him up. But he still seemed downcast. So I said, "But, Possum, just because you aren't pope yet doesn't mean you aren't infallible."
And he perked up and began swatting at Toffee.