Today a Chiwawa humped Frank's head in the park.
He looked up at us through the randy midget's legs.
His expression needed no interpretation. It was the end of a long day.
Earlier I found him in he kitchen amongst blood and broken clay.
Finally, I thought, the shocking and unexpected proof.
On Monday morning, inexplicably, the kitchen tap had been on when I came downstairs. I'd been cross with the cat all week.
It turns out it was Frank all along.
Today, in an attempt to lay claim to the stunt, he'd jumped onto the work-surface, knocked his bowel onto the floor and somehow cut his hind leg open in the process.
A small flap of skin, but the amount of blood indicated much worse. For a moment I thought the cat may have bought it, and was considering how I could help Frank with an alibi.
Franks following attempts to escape the kitchen were illustrated with red smears and splatters on Kitchen and back door as well as the window behind the sink.
While he was being head humped, the Chiwawa's owner said she's known an Italian Greyhound once, which could jump as high as her.
'They are very springy,' she warned.
If only we'd known a little earlier.
You set this up, Frank was clearly thinking as he looked at us laughing. This is my punishment.