The cat warily poked her head out of the washing machine. The coast was clear. She put her paws up on the rim, tensed her legs to spring.
Then — a flash of movement in the corner of the kitchen! Sparkles hissed, ducked back into the safety of the washing machine. Her tail lashed back and forth within the limited confines of the metal drum.
She could hear it, snuffling around the kitchen, moving close to the washing machine. Its claws scraped against the tiled floor, making her skin prickle. If only her owners would come home and get rid of it, set down more traps….
When Sparkles heard it began to chew on a wire, she shook her head and curled up to wait for back up. Mice had always been a problem in London, but this was getting ridiculous.