I am only thinking, mind you, about going outside. I haven't actually decided to do it, but it is a possible consequence of my facing in the general direction of the back door. Suddenly something pounds past me like a herd of stampeded buffalo. I see the flash of a gray comet tail and hear something that sounds kind of like: "m-m-y-w-t-t-t!"
Dazed from the blast, I recover to see what Wonder, looking toward that which in time past masqueraded as an ordinary kitchen door. But I can see now that in reality it is the steel-clad bars of maximum security, suffering violence at the toes of feline desperation. Minnie the Unfortunate is attempting to scratch and claw her way into freedom.
But then, but then. . . the very nano-second her angel of mercy (that's me)rises to the occasion, ready to the rescue; yes, just as soon as yours truly repentant jail matron makes as if to throw wide the gates of iron, my darling reverses direction.
Tail to door, with large and dreadful eyes she searches my own. Minnie has her own ways and they are highly effective. I am to understand role of Prison Wardeness is past; Nefarious Mother about to assign tragic child to orphandom and a howling blizzard -sans coat, sans hat, sans food, is cast.
But faster than I can switch mood or hats, off my pretty scrambles, fast as her fat little body can ripple (which is pretty darn fast). To catacombs dark she hies it, lost for the time in shadowy world of the persecuted.
Me? I am left with my usual load of Minnie-induced guilt.