Swiftcurrent Creek & heaven knows i'm miserable now

To be accused of murder by such a small child. Such a thing came with two revelations: 1) How did this child know what murder was? And 2) How often did this child go around crying 'murderer' for no good reason? The colour of Frederick's pelt seemed to be the only evidence of this so-called crime. And then he was called 'too old'. Perhaps this pup was the murderer—Frederick's self-esteem was feeling quite dead.

Burdock, he sighed, looking towards the child in a pointed manner. I do not know who 'Mr Fluffy' is. I did not murder him, either. Perhaps you should investigate someone else on the matter. Perhaps someone that had more energy for the kid's games, or his wild theories, or his misplaced accusations. Maybe Frederick would not prove to be a good father after all. But at that thought, something panged within him.

An urge to prove himself wrong.

And so, with a blink and a why the hell not, he sat down, turning to face the pup. Who is the next likely suspect? And perhaps he would feed Burdock's imagination.