Bad Housekeeping by Emma Neale
The cat does a fine patriarchal stalk his paws all rosebuds and thorns, eyes a tender-censorious almost-blue as he plays pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake with the living room rug which bubbles and bumps like bread dough baking until I lift its edge to see a small, dark, anguished mouse race the thread of its tail up and down like a seamstress frantic to say least and mend soonest the deep