“So how’s the building work going?” asked Short Tony.
“Your dogg has shat on my bathroom floor,” I complained.
Short Tony’s dogg raised a quizzical eyebrow from its slumptness on the stone flags. I looked at it in a stern fashion. The animal went back to sleep, my reproach unacknowledged.
“It might not have been Short Tony’s dogg,” the LTLP offered.
I had to concede that she was right.
“What does it look like?” asked Short Tony. “Hers are normally about… this big.”
“No – this was about… that big.”
“What colour is it?”
“Ah. Hers are usually quite dark.”
I apologised for maligning Short Tony’s dogg.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a cat?” asked Mrs Short Tony.
“It would have to be a bloody big cat,” I explained patiently.
“Or a hedgehog? They are quite big. Or a badger?”
“It looked like dogg to me,” I maintained. “On the bathroom floor. Ironically, exactly where the toilet is going to be. In the future.”
Short Tony disappeared to examine the evidence, presumably utilising a tape measure and colour chart. I felt foolish for making unjust and unproven accusations. The dogg slumbered on the floor.