The lump of gray on his chest let out a great purr. Mr. Tralehome stroked the soft fur and played with the tail of Storm, his cat. Storm stretched, arching his back, and walked calmly out the cat-flap like he had so many times before. But this time would be different.
It had been several days since Robert Tralehome had last seen his cat. Storm had never been out for this long before, and he was starting to get worried. But Storm would come back. He always did.
Robert sat up in bed. A scuffling noise was coming from downstairs. Slowly and carefully, he crept down the stairs. Nothing. Almost nothing. But the rug was rumpled! The lamp was upturned! There was a bump under the rug!
Robert grabbed the closest thing next to him: a chair, and prepared to fling it at the lump with all his might. But before he could do it, the lump moved. Robert rushed upstairs, dropping the chair where he had been standing seconds before.
Two weeks passed, and it happened again. It could have been symmetrical, it was almost the exact same thing! The only difference was that, when the lump moved, Robert stayed put. A scrambling noise broke out from the bump. An angry growl emerged when Robert nervously touched it.
"It must be an animal," he wondered aloud. He thought he saw a little black nose peek out from under the bump, but it was gone before he could be sure. Robert quickly dialed Animal Control's number.
"Hello?"
"This is Mr. Tralehome. I've got an animal loose in my house, and I think it's dangerous."
"What kind?"
"I'm not sure. But I think it has a black nose. A dog, maybe."
"Sir, we need to bring the proper equipment for this kind of thing, and our truck isn't big enough to carry all our equipment. I'm sorry, but we can't come unless we are positive which animal it is."
Robert hung up. He glanced over at the rug. The bump was gone. Robert hadn't realized Storm hadn't come back. He didn't need to.
Four days later, the bump was back. This time Robert was ready. He cautiously lifted the tip of the rug with extra-tough gloves. It was Storm. His body was stiff and cold. Storm was dead. Robert's eyes filled with tears, but one question came clear in his mind. What killed Storm? Other questions quickly followed: How did Storm come back and forth from under the rug to some unknown place? Was the timing f Storm coming back and forth planned? Important? Robert soon realized Storm had a pink nose. Not a black one. Some animal, who might be here, in his house, had committed this horrible crime.
There was sudden barking. A white and tan terrier crawled out from under a nearby couch and stood over Storm. Its eyes were red and it was foaming at the mouth. It snarled menacingly. :affraid:Rea Robert sprinted to the phone and called Animal Control. This time, they came.
