It was the cat's fault

It was the cat’s fault.
It’s 2am when I’m woken up by the cat. Hmm. Unusual. So I turn on the light. And there’s the cat. With a rat in its mouth. A large, large rat. I stare, astonished. Why has the cat decided that our bedroom, on the ground floor, is the obvious place to store a rat?
The cat is impressed that I am impressed. She smiles at me, and starts purring. Her mouth opens. The rat escapes.
The cat is so pleased with me that she takes no notice.
Now there is a rat on the loose. In the bedroom.
I leap out of bed and start chasing the rat. Under no circumstances must I allow it to get under the bed. I am not wearing any clothes, but that doesn’t matter. At first.
Then I think to myself, maybe chasing a rat, stark naked, is perhaps not the best idea. So I put on some shoes.
The rat is still on the loose. I’m shouting at Jenny to block the door so it can’t escape. Jen is shrieking.
Eventually, I chase it over to the window – the low, floor to ceiling window. I throw the window open so the rat jumps out.
I notice the lights on in the house opposite. Mrs Jenkins, woken by the screaming, is staring at me. I am floor to ceiling naked. Apart from my shoes.
“It was a rat,” I mouth. She smiles at me, and winks. Oh dear.