There was a tense scene in the kitchen the other day. (Once again, I wished I had a better camera.)
Lion thought we all lived in Maine and refused to believe Possum, who tried to tell him otherwise. Lion thought Possum was joking. Possum assured Lion that he doesn't have a sense of humor, being a Norwegian aristocrat and all.
Lion said he doesn't want to be some "sissy Bostonian" and offered to box with Possum to decide the question. Possum took umbrage. Lion retreated but only for a moment.
Possum weighs three times more than Lion, and he told him so, hoping he'd see the folly of his plan. Lion isn't good at math. He gave up trying to figure out what it all meant and decided to box with Possum anyway.
I thought Lion was fierce brave to go after Possum, who is a big guy with large teeth and a piece missing from his ear. Possum found it tiresome, but put up a show of extreme violence.
Possum told me later that he admired Lion's nerve, although he needs an education. He also said it was hard to keep a straight face as Lion tried to look big and scary. I've seen them washing each other's heads since, so I'm sure they've made up. And I haven't said anything about how they seem to be speaking the same language now.