Harriet does well

Me: Isn’t Harriet doing well with our guest?

Nell: I knew she was the dog for the job. She has such gentle ways.

Me: I must say I never expected an opossum to have such a strong voice. When it started singing ‘Don’t let me be Misunderstood’ at Sunday Songs I was amazed.

Nell: He sings in a band back home. Please don’t call him O. Possum. It’s so unfriendly. You don’t call me, N. Martin, or Rupert, K. Wolf.

Me: But it’s his name, Nell.

Nell: It is not. His name is Oliver.

Me: Oh.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: I didn’t know.

Nell: Well, now you do, so less of the O. Possum please.

Me: Of course.

Nell: Now, Oliver is very shy around strangers and will play dead at the slightest provocation so we all need to tread carefully around him.

Me: I don’t think Dave can on those giant paws.

Nell: David has been practising Soft Paws.

Me: What does that mean?

Nell: Being quiet and discreet. Cats are particularly good at it.

Me: Except for The Cat.

Nell: It could be, if it ever got out of high heels and stopped wearing sequins.

Me: That’s never going to happen.

Nell: No. Where was I?

Me: Dave was being quiet.

Nell: Yes. Poppy is being particularly noisy today I’m afraid and has been banging pots around all morning. She says there might not be enough roast beef to go around.

Me: Oh no.

Nell: Fortunately Manuel has whisked up some extra Yorkshire puddings and Malcolm was hit on the head with a mackerel by a passing Beefy.

Me: What’s fortunate about that?

Nell: The mackerel was fresh so it can be served as an alternative for the pescatarians amongst us. Do keep up.

Me: Oh, I see. Sorry.

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