“So how’s the building work going?” asked Short Tony.

“Your dogg has shat on my bathroom floor,” I complained.

“My dogg?”

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?”

“Light.”

“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.

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