When I drove home for Thanksgiving I was dismayed to find George and Danielle's treehouse surrounded by herds of mammalian species groups agitating for Francis to be categorized (at least partially) with them. I stopped the car and pretended to be a hedgehog representative, making sure to jostle the others as much as possible. The crowd soon dispersed; another instance of my quills coming in handy. A temporary solution, but effective.
At least we were able to gather for our family meal in peace. I had my favorite insectivore meal: grubworms au gratin. We all gave thanks for making it through another year, with some new faces both old (Gran) and new (Francis). As usual, anything left over was eaten by Coney.
The crowds returned after the holiday. I wish I could be of assistance by providing a more definitive genetic analysis of Francis, but somehow I feel it wouldn't help. The very uncertainty of his DNA keeps all species from pressing the matter too hard. If I narrowed it down to two or three, those groups would dig in their heels. Or fetlocks. Or whatever.
