“Urrgh. Wherre am I.”

He woke up with a bruise on the back of his head, on the floor of a dimly lit public bathroom. God, it smelled awful. He tried to remember what had happened – ah, that’s right: that cat burglar had outwitted him again.

Shaking his head in disgust, he blurted out loud: " I am Hunter. Rrrrr, I am the Hunter."

After leaving the bathroom, he found himself in the back alleys of Paris, France. This silly hide-and-seek game had led him from Florence to Mozambique, and now France. That cat burglar was one of the finest. She would sneak into museums and galleries undetected and slip with the treasure. All that would mark her presence would be her signature: 3 dots over a circle.

“He’s going to have my head if I don’t catch Katarina soon.”

Pushing past the crowd in a nearby underground bar, he raised his muzzle and took a deep whiff of the air, before smelling something familiar, something he could never forget.

Her breath.

“Rrrrr. Anchovies.”

That cat was nearby, somewhere in the bar.