Tribble was growing fast. She’d gone from small grey fluffball to slender, long-legged, half-grown cat in a matter of weeks, always greeting her humans on their return home with a loud purr. Rhys couldn’t imagine life without her.
Not that she was perfect; her wall of death stunt was terrifying to watch, but the worst thing was her love of hunting. She was fearless, stalking her prey, pouncing, and killing with biting teeth and slashing claws.
“If you put your socks in the laundry basket, they wouldn’t get shredded,” Gwen told him as he gloomily held up another unfortunate victim.