Purrfect Cut

Chapter 21

“I want you to know, Max,” said Dooley, “that you’ve always been the cat in the world I’ve admired the most.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said. I was pacing the room, trying to come up with a way out of our predicament. It was a little hard to see how, though, as the room had been designed to keep its inhabitants in, or at least that was my impression.

“And I want you to know that you can have all my earthly possessions after I’m gone,” Dooley continued.

“You seem to forget that if you die, I’m dying along with you, Dooley.”

This seemed to give him pause. “Oh, right,” he said. “I forgot about that. So to whom can I dictate my last will and testament?” He turned to Pussy. “Pussy, I’ve always admired you from afar, and I want you to know—”

“You didn’t even know me before today,” said Pussy. “And besides, once you two are dead I might as well be dead, too. They’re never going to let me out of this room. This is going to be my prison until the day I die, which might be sooner than I want. Cats in captivity rarely live to a ripe old age.”

“How old are you now?” asked Dooley, interested.

“Four.”

“Oh? You look a lot older.”

“Um, thanks, I guess.”

I’d already checked the windows, but they were all locked solid, the door was one of those rusty steel doors that Leo seemed to have favored, so no dice either, and there were no nooks and crannies that could assist us in our escape. Unless…

I glanced up and noticed that the ventilation system in the room was of an odd design. In line with the rest of the house it had an industrial look: the pipes led straight into the room and hung suspended from the ceiling with a series of rings and bolts and iron wiring. If only we could get up there, and pry loose one of those grates, we might have a shot at getting out of the room.

“No, really,” Dooley was saying. “I thought you were six, or maybe seven.”

“Uh-huh,” said Pussy. “Is that a fact?”

“Pussy?” I said. “Is there a way we can get up there?” I indicated the high-wire act above our heads.

“If we put all my plush toys in a big pile in the corner we might reach there,” said Pussy. “But even if we could, we’d still have to remove the grate.”

“I know. But we have to give it a try. It might be our only shot before they come back.”

So for the next couple of minutes we created a big pile out of Pussy’s plush animals. To our delight there were a lot of them. Like, a great big lot. Finally the pile reached about three quarters to the ceiling, and we took a break to think up the next part of our grand plan.

“I think Dooley should go,” said Pussy. “He’s the lightest and might reach the highest.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“You think?” said Dooley. “I think Pussy should try. She’s very light on her paws, and will simply whizz through the air like a trapeze artist.”

“Why, thank you, Dooley,” Pussy said, pleasantly surprised.

“No, I mean it. You could be a ballet dancer for all your grace and beauty.”

“Well, I could give it a shot, of course,” she said, “but it’s really you who should get out of here. I’m not to the one they’re going to try and murder.”

“Touché,” said Dooley, grinning awkwardly for some reason.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I said and gave my friend a nudge in the direction of the pile of plush. “Jump high and aim for that grate over there.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” said Dooley, licking his lips nervously. He retreated all the way to the opposite corner of the room, then took a long approach and at high speed raced to the pile, hopped up in a few jumps to the top, then took a flying leap in the direction of the grate, and… managed to hang on by his nails!

Unfortunately, two things happened simultaneously: the grate didn’t budge, sturdily fastened as it apparently was, and the pile of plush animals, as a consequence of Dooley’s ministrations, collapsed and tumbled down.

“Help!” Dooley now bleated, dangling from the ceiling by his nails. “Help me, Max!”

“Oh, hang on, Dooley!” Pussy shouted. “Max will figure something out!”

They both looked at me for aid and comfort, but frankly I drew a complete blank. I mean, I’m not Bruce Willis traipsing all over Nakatomi Plaza!

The only thing I could think of was: “Just let go, Dooley. I’ll break your fall.”

Just then, two more things happened: the grate finally decided to give up the struggle and dropped out. Dooley, in a supreme demonstration of nimbleness, managed to grab onto the vent opening. And then the door to the room opened and Chris walked in.

The grate fell on top of the man’s head, and he went down like a sack of potatoes. And Dooley, up above, quickly disappeared into the vent the moment he heard the door opening and immediately scrabbled out of sight.

“Go, Max!” Pussy shouted. “Now’s your chance. Go, go, go!”

And like a speed racer who’s been given the all-clear, I bolted for the door. And just when I reached there an obstacle appeared in my path: it was Tank. But since I was going fast and speeding up as I went, I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. Cats don’t have inbuilt brakes, so I bumped into Tank at full speed, and since I am easily twice his size it was like a bowling ball hitting a pin: Tank was flung to the side and I still kept going, momentum propelling me through the door.

I was free, and nothing could stop me now!

Except for the maze that was Chateau Leonidas.

Before long I was lost in the warren of corridors, but all the while I kept on running at full tilt, for right behind me was a cat in hot pursuit, and I knew it was Tank, pissed that he’d been bowled over by a mere mongrel like myself.