The cat-claw-cutter indicator buzzer went off.

I went towards the closet to pulled a cloth down for cover but the route was blocked. This looked damning. I tried to go into the bookshelves but again, door closed. No other course but under the sofa, the very back of course.

—

Turns out I was right. She got me, and my claws, but not without a spirited wriggling of a workout, I’ll tell you.