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This would never happen with a drummer


Psychoanalyze the fox. There's a thought.

He tells us he's an urbanized individual whose family is well established on the hill, and he's already had numerous friendships there with other open-minded neighbors of the two-legged variety. He's just lost his foxhole to a couple of flea-bitten rottweilers, new additions to the neighborhood, and is in a bit of a bind — his kids don't yet have the legs, or the nouse, to survive the invasion. The wife's sent him on a mission to find better digs and he sees no threat there with the banjo-wielding giant, another kindly figure, one of many, amongst the local inhabitants. Any port in a storm.