With the extreme delicacy reserved for people who know if they break their concentration for a moment they'll make a hash of things and fall over again, he inched out of reach from the angel. "No dogs here," he said, firmly. "Only piles'f cats. And birds and scuttley beetly things. Won't eat angels."

There was a pause when another part of Aziraphale's speech sank in, and a stab of professional annoyance. "I am too scary. Just because I don't have great big goat horns and... jump out at corners going oogly boogly." He gave a sniff, which would have been much more haughty looking if his hair wasn't all disheveled and flopping over his face. "And I've looked like this for years and years and years. S'perfectly healthy and not... tiny."