There is something to be said about little paw prints neatly marching along a crisp white background. There is something else to be said about those same paw prints when they are found marching across a white shirt. A white shirt laid out to be worn that same day. And when those paw prints have been made in mud? Yeah.
The four-footed one would tell you that what you should say about those paw prints is aww. And if those paw prints, muddy no less, happen to be all over your freshly laundered shirt, laid out on a chair, well you should say thank you for your fashion design.
Except none of that is what I said. What I wanted to say is, umm, profanity laced. And no I did not say that either because swearing in front of the four-footed one will not do. I have no clue why this is the case, but it is. So instead I called her into the room, pointed at the now paw print covered shirt which had moved from the chair onto the floor and asked her if she was responsible.
And yes dear readers, for a small moment I waited. I no clue why. It’s not like she is going to answer me in a way I understand. But I waited and then I simply moved on with my day. Minus my new fashion statement.