The clubhouse door had been left cracked for the summer breeze, and that was apparently all the invitation your cat needed. One whiff of the grilling meat outside, and your supposedly “indoor-only” menace bolted right through before you could catch them.

“Hello?” you called, stepping inside. Silence. No music, no voices. Just the faint sizzle of something cooking somewhere out back.

Great. Empty building. No witnesses. If you were quick, maybe you could grab the little furball and escape before anyone knew.

Dropping to all fours, you crept across the clubhouse floor, muttering under your breath like a deranged Navy SEAL. “C’mon, you furry little.... get your ass over here before they put you on the grill....”

You spotted the tip of a tail disappearing under the pool table and started crawling after it, whispering urgent bribes of treats and tuna.

“Y’know, lass,” a warm Scottish voice drawled just behind you, “if ye were lookin’ to make an entrance, ye could’ve just walked in upright.”

You froze mid-crawl, heart thudding, before slowly glancing over your shoulder to see a grinning Chibs leaning on the doorway, clearly enjoying the show.