Minnie flicked her tail tersely as she sat on the floral-designed cushioned chairs in the breakfast nook, wishing for some way to inform Miss Grosing of her guest's untrustworthiness. Miss Grosing seemed to have gotten over the loss of her vase quickly at the sight of Minnie up and running again,

"Minnie, this is Roberts – He's a world-famous cat breeder who has kindly come all the way from…er, Switzerland, right? To give me some tips on showing you this spring."

Showing tips? Like she needed them…huff. However, her suspicions were put to rest for the time being – Miss Grosing always had breeders over, though she rarely got so exited over them. The kitten incident…she was becoming too paranoid. Sighing, she retired to the living room for a good nap.

-

Hours later, and late into the night, Minnie's dreams were interrupted once again, but this time not by the sun – the moon still hung in the sky, and the chirping of many foul night creatures could be heard through the thick windows. Footsteps…that was what had woken her. But whose? She opened her eyes blearily and caught the outline of Roberts' tall form. What was he doing, stupid human?

Roberts was carrying the same cat carrier he had used to bring George in and a can of tuna – not even very good quality tuna, either, she noted. This was suspicious.

Roberts beckoned for Minnie to come into the crate.

Now, Minnie was not very intelligent on the subject of a lot of things, amazingly, but strange men trying to get you into a cat carrier in the middle of the night without your owner's consent just tended to send off warning sirens in your mind.

"Heeere, kitty," said Roberts soothingly, reaching out a hand to Minnie. Minnie thrashed her tail groggily and glared at the hand. No one called her kitty; not even fakey world-famous cat breeders from Switzerland. She leapt from the windowsill, still half-dozing, but determined, as she walked. The man followed close behind, his footsteps as soft as he could make them, not seeming altogether concerned that Minnie was headed straight for Miss Grosing's sleeping quarters – Minnie soon found out why. Stupid humans and their thinking ahead; he'd locked the door.

Now slightly panicked and wide awake, Minnie made a run for the door – maybe by sheer willpower she could squeeze through the mail slot. But, alas, she never made it to the door. A pair of rough hands closed around her and before she could scream she was flung unceremoniously into the crate. Roberts allowed himself a quiet "Aha!" in victory before heaving his load as quietly as possible to the door.

Minnie flopped limply about in the crate – she had not had a good day.