Ianto followed the trail of green fluff through the apartment with increasing concern. Nosy shouldn’t be moulting, and anyway, it always cleaned up after itself. Ianto suspected that it sometimes shed deliberately just because it liked using the vacuum cleaner.
Hearing a whirring noise he followed it, passing more clumps of fur, until he reached Nosy’s room, where the tattered, frazzled Fluff had taken refuge on its top bunk.
Meriel sat on the floor, clutching Jack’s razor. With her intended victim out of reach, the eighteen-month-old was busily shaving the carpet.
Ianto closed his eyes. “I’m going to kill Jack!”