Bob and Roger, who were 30 years old if you combined their ages, found themselves in a dilly of a pickle. The stray dog which they fed, despite being told not to, was now in the cellar giving birth, and mom was asking them, “What’s that smell?”
The “What smell?” shouted in unison, proved to mom that something was up. She assessed the effort of investigating versus whether she really wanted to know. She decided to let it go. She went back to the dishes, looking out the window, wandering what ever happened to that stray dog she’d been feeding.