Every so often, a property appears that makes the whole team lean forward and whisper. The space behind the sofa is that property. Dark, dusty, secret, and approximately 1.2 metres of private perimeter, it is the ultimate bachelor pad for a cat who values silence and old coins.
The listing comes with a lost sock, two ponytail bands, and a single, tarnished marble. Access is by a narrow gap that only the genuinely committed can squeeze through, ensuring excellent security. Rent is a modest 22 treats. The humans have never found it and, if you are discreet, they never will. It is the perfect hideaway and also, I am told, slightly haunted.
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