So there we were, sitting in the bay window of the dining room playing Scrabble, when who should we see creeping down the path, but the cat, carrying a young rabbit by the scruff of the neck. We peered through the glass at the rabbit. It’s eyes were wide open, but it was motionless. It appeared to be dead.
The cat walked towards the front door.
“All the doors are shut, aren’t they?” I said, remembering our earlier troubles (this and this).
“Yes, Yes, everything is shut.” said Dave.
I moved my letters around on my letter rack.
There was a mild thump from across the hallway. We looked at each other. It was exactly the kind of thump the cat makes when she comes through a window and drops onto the carpet. We raced to my study. Nothing. I ran all over the house calling for the cat. No response. I shut all the doors. Dave returned to the study.
“She’s here! And the rabbit has escaped. I think it’s behind your desk.”
He gallantly hoiked it out.
Thank God for Dave. Thank God we heard the thump. I can just imagine stumbling into my room with my early morning cup of tea to do some writing, sitting down at the desk, stretching out my legs and feeling something small and warm and furry, move against my bare foot.
Now all we have to worry about are the fleas.
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