I had Bear over for dinner on Sunday evening. We cooked lasagne and home-made garlic bread – it was really not that bad. After that we played scrabble.

Bear played “hazzok”.

I said “Bear, hazzok is not a word.”

His face fell a little, his claws dropped to his lap. He seemed sad. He seemed a bit sad generally: his wife had left for Canada last week, and it didn’t look like she was coming back. He was in a bit of financial trouble due to his gambling problem. And his fence needed painting. So I let him off the hook.

“Just kidding,” I said. He perked up. The oven dinged. The apple pie was ready. “Ah!” I said, “good timing bear! The hazzok is ready!”

And so, we ate our hazzok. And Bear won scrabble. And as far as I can tell everyone was happy about it all.