great tragedy

Last night (Monday, Christmas-Day, December 25) a great tragedy occurred.
Killian, who had been outside, roared inside, into the spare bedroom, and jumped on the bed — ker-boink!
Linda had a quilt she was making spread out on the bed. Killian’s paws were slightly muddy.
All of a sudden weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. “Oh, Killian!”
And so began a frenzied attempt to remove the muddy paw-prints. “Once it’s dirty, the stains never come out.”
I was doing something else, so couldn’t immediately assess the dire emergency.
About an hour later I entered the room to turn out Christmas-lights: single electric candles we have in each window. (We have 13, although I’m sure I’ll hear noisy arguments to the contrary from my siblings regarding my count.)
Surveying the quilt I couldn’t see any paw-prints.
“What frightful tragedy am I supposed to be seeing here?” I asked.
A small area of wide white border was pointed out which might register a single-step difference on the Pantone Scale; i.e. slightly tanner, but still white.
“I’ve soaked and soaked,” my wife said.
“It’s hardly noticeable,” I said. I wouldn't have found it had it not been pointed out.