Lion Head Mesa each one a line or two

the correction came like a slap - or at least a thwack on the snout with rolled-up newspaper. gucci hurried to fix the mistake.

"ah- apologies mistah charles, that's a real true fine name fer a y-young man your years very, uhm, dickensian, naw? bit royal too 'thothatoneain'tapopularmember..."

his aplogy descended into mutters until it was beyond hearing. the strings of this conversation were out his paws.

important. yes! buoy tossed into the deep end of the social awkwardness pool!

"ah m o' lesser importance fer sure, but ah do still hold some rank 'ere." gucci shook out his own ample chest fur and raised a paw in the wrist. "ah m a noble, as decreed by th' queen herself!" 

he smiled pleasantly at mr. charles. "what role had the pharaoh bestowed upon yaself?"