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Byron.”
    â€œThen, by all means, proceed,” I said.
    â€œWe’d first like to discuss your living arrangements,” croaked Fat Cheeks. The area around his mouth always looked very wet, and I wondered what sort of ailment caused such a symptom.
    â€œThank you for your concern,” I said. “I find them tolerable, although a baron should be afforded more space for his possessions and his retinue. Perhaps we can work together to correct this.”
    His shiny pink jowls shook with annoyance. “You’ve got one of the finest residential suites on our campus, and it’s more than adequate for your needs. What is unsatisfactory is your insistence on keeping dangerous animals in student housing. You amble drunkenly about the streets of Cambridge with that horrible bear, terrifying everyone you encounter. It’s only a matter of time before some unfortunate person is mauled.”
    My pet had long been a contentious subject among the faculty; his very presence in Cambridge was an assault on the rules and restrictions passed down by the College. Prior to my matriculation at Trinity, I’d often embarked upon on my various adventures in the company of a noble and imperious bulldog named Smut. I intended to bring him with me to Cambridge, but the College forbade dogs of any kind in the residence and refused to make an exception for mine, even when I attempted to leverage my title. Frustrated, I obtained a written copy of the rules governing student housing and studied it with the assistance of my legal counsel. Prohibited to students were dogs, cats, trained birds, swine, and other livestock. As to the keeping of bears, these documents were silent.
    Thus, the Professor.
    â€œMy companion is quite docile,” I said. “And both of us find that long walks in the evening aid in the processes of digestion and contemplation. Moreover, that animal happens to be a noted naturalist and esteemed Professor, and if I’ve anything to say about it, he’ll soon be joining you on the College faculty and enjoying these lovely chairs. You should have brought a fourth, for your associate.” Here, I pointed toward Shar-Pei. “He looks rather forlorn on his stool.”
    Fat Cheeks was beginning to turn red. “Your applications for fellowships on behalf of that animal and your continued overtures to the administration to grant it tenure are both annoying and detrimental to your standing here at the College. And your boasts that you plan to endow a position for the bear only embarrass you, as everyone knows you are not financially situated to do so.”
    â€œPerhaps you should join the Professor and me for a run or a swim sometime,” I suggested to Fat Cheeks. “You look rather gassy and bloated, and I suspect a bit of moderate exercise would improve your humors and overall disposition.”
    â€œStop calling that beast a professor.” His voice was high and shrill.
    â€œI see little basis for making a distinction between him and one such as yourself,” I said. One certainly could not do so on the basis of relative body mass.
    â€œWhere did he study?” Fat Cheeks shouted. “What has he published?”
    I stared at him but didn’t say anything. Old Beardy looked at Fat Cheeks, then at me, and then back. Shar-Pei avoided looking at anyone and, instead, picked at a hangnail on his left index finger.
    I let the room settle into uneasy silence until I was certain nothing I might say would rescue Fat Cheeks from his embarrassment. When all risk of that had passed, I said: “Contrary to your previous statements, I don’t feel that this gentleman is affectionate toward me at all. Nor does he seem concerned about my personal growth.”
    â€œWell, our affection has become tempered with frustration at your erratic behavior,” Old Beardy conceded.
    â€œSo, this is an inquisition, after all.”
    â€œOf course not, Lord Byron. But we do