To Manfred Clootie, the avowed pickpocket and poet (or dipping doggerelist), the animal kingdom had only two classes, pouched and unpouched. The pouched class, that is, the marsupials, ought to have attracted him because he spent so much time letting his fingers loose in pockets. The truth is that he was afraid of kangaroos, wallabies and their ilk. In fact, he was afraid of most animals. But there were times when he actually consorted with beasts, not in any nasty way, but simply as a companion. These adventures usually ended badly.
Let us consider just two cases:
The Stupid interment; and