Purrfect Cut

Chapter 23

I was racing along, trying to find my way out of the maze that Leonidas had built, still persecuted by the sound of a cat in hot pursuit—I could hear his nails scrabbling as he raced along behind me—when suddenly I reached a dead end and almost slammed into a wall. And then the wall slammed into me, or at least that’s what it felt like when a solid object and I collided.

The solid object soon turned out not to be all that solid. It was a cat, and before I knew what was happening, I was putting up a fight with the furry fiend, knowing that it was Tank who’d taken a shortcut and who’d managed to intercept my progress. I knew I had to watch out for his claw going for my jugular, and it was only when Tank uttered a loud cry of distress that something registered in my brain and gave me pause.

That cry hadn’t sounded like Tank at all.

It had sounded more like Dooley’s bleats.

So I halted the proceedings and lo and behold: I was actually fighting my best friend and not, as I had supposed, my mortal enemy!

“Dooley!” I cried.

“Max!” he yelped. “I thought you were Tank!”

“I thought you were Tank!”

We fell into each other’s arms and before long were laughing at the strange coincidence of both of us thinking we were engaged in the fight of a lifetime against a formidable foe.

“I dropped down from up there,” he said, indicating the open vent that gaped overhead and then the grate that had buckled under his weight.

“I thought Tank was chasing me. So that was you?”

“And I thought Tank was chasing me!”

How funny it was, if only our situation hadn’t been so dire.

“We still need to get out of here,” I said. “Tank probably is chasing us.”

“Which way is the exit?” asked Dooley, glancing back nervously for a sign of the murderous Siamese.

We both searched around, and suddenly a growling sound came rumbling out of the darkness. There was no doubt this time that it was Tank, and he did not sound happy.

He suddenly stepped into the light, and his eyes glowed red and menacing, his teeth sharp and deadly. His tail was distended and his back was arched and he looked ready to move in for the kill!

“Frankly I’ve just about had it with this guy,” said Dooley, much to my surprise. And before I could stop him, he was charging in the direction of the fearful cat, screaming at the top of his lungs!

“Dooley, no!” I yelled, and then I was racing after my buddy, ready for any fate.

Tank, instead of putting up a fight, saw the two of us storming towards him, gulped a little, then let out a high squeal, and turned around and ran!

“Huh,” I said as we watched him streak off in the direction he came from.

“I guess he’s not as tough as he looks,” said Dooley, who seemed disappointed that he hadn’t been able to engage the horrible cat.

“That was very brave of you, Dooley,” I said as I placed my paw on his shoulder. “Probably the bravest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself, you know.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

We both turned, intent on locating that elusive exit, when suddenly we found ourselves face to face with the biggest, meanest-looking rat I’d ever seen! It was baring its fangs, saliva dripping from the pointy snappers, and it looked about to move in for the kill!

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dooley and I turned around and fled the scene—running as fast as our legs could carry us! Before long, we’d reached the staircase, scrambled down at top speed, and kept on running, through the living room, streaked through a crack in the sliding door and out into the open. And as we ran, I thought for a moment I heard Gran’s voice. It must have been my imagination, though, for I knew she couldn’t possibly be there.

And as Dooley and I stood panting, he said, “So that’s why Tank turned and ran! He wasn’t afraid of us but of the big, nasty rat!”

“He must have dropped down from that vent—same as you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. I’m one of those cats that’s built for comfort, not speed, you see, and cardiovascular activity always has a deleterious effect on me.

“Did you hear Gran?” he asked.

“I did.”

“We must be hallucinating.”

“It’s because we were imprisoned. Prisoners often start hearing things.”

“Let’s go home,” said Dooley. “Odelia might not be the ideal human we thought she was, but she’s a damn sight better than the people that run this house—or the big, scary rats that infest the ventilation system!”

“I can’t believe you were cooped up in there—with that rat!”

“I know!” he said, his eyes wide as saucers.

We both glanced up to the second-floor window of the room we’d just escaped from, and saw to our elation that Pussy was sitting there, looking down at us. And she was smiling!

She held up her paw in greeting, and Dooley shouted, “We’re coming back for you, Pussy! We won’t leave you there to die!”

Pussy gave us a cheery wave, and then we were off at a trot. Unfortunately we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, still not fully ourselves after our harrowing ordeal, and before long we found ourselves not on the road to Hampton Cove where home and safety lay, but back in the petting zoo.

“We’re back where we started, Max,” said Dooley, who’d come to the same conclusion.

“It sure looks that way. Oh, well. I guess all roads lead to Rome,” I said.

“They do? And how does that work, exactly?”

“It’s just an expression. I don’t think all roads literally lead to Rome.”

“They’d have to cross an entire ocean, which I think is a little tricky.”

And on this note of wisdom, we entered the petting zoo. Any place was better than the Flake house, which had turned out to be a house of horrors.