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In a few words Clarice explained the plan, and soon a dozen cats were working away at those old hinges, scraping off cement and rust and working like good little beavers.

“Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes?” said Clarice as she stood back to admire the work in progress.

“I think your plan is going to work, Clarice,” said Brutus.

“No, I mean, have you ever seen cats work together as a team like that before?”

“Um… well, Max and Dooley and Harriet and I often work as a team.”

“Yeah, but you’re an anomaly. Normally cats are loners. But this… this is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Brutus agreed. “It’s something, huh?”

“Don’t just stand there with your thumb up your butt!” Harriet yelled to Brutus. “Come over here and help us out, will you?!”

Clarice grinned.“You better do as you’re told, Brutus. Or there will be hell to pay.”

He quickly moved over to where Harriet was digging her claws into the cement. Soon Clarice joined them, and together they made short shrift of the door. And then, suddenly, a wonderful sound: the door was creaking and squeaking, and as Clarice yelled,“Timber!” and all cats got out of the way, the heavy door suddenly dropped down, kicking up some of that ancient and smelly dust. For a moment, no cat spoke. They just stared at the gaping hole. And then they all raced for the exit, and the exodus began.

Chapter 28

The door of the van was opened again, and this time Dooley and I were ready to pounce. Only there wasn’t anything to pounce on! Instead, it was the same story as before: the contents of the van were poured into the dark hole, and since there was only one way to go, all cats fled in that direction. Soon we landed in that same dank dungeon, only this time there was a big difference: there wasn’t a single cat in sight.

“Where did they all go?” asked Dooley.

And then I saw it: the door to the dungeon had collapsed and the road to freedom was open. In the distance I could still see a couple of stragglers, so whatever miracle had caused that sturdy old door to collapse had only happened in the last couple of minutes.

So I said,“Let’s go, Dooley. Run!” And run, we did!

Milo, who’d been looking around with a dumb look on his face, said, “Where are my Cat Snax? Where is the Cat Snax team? And where is the plane to Vegas!”

But I wasn’t going to hold his paw and escort him out of there. If he wanted to stay put, he was more than welcome. But since Dooley has a much bigger heart than me, he couldn’t allow that to happen, so he said, patiently, “We have to escape, Milo. Or else we’ll all be locked up in here and then who knows what they’ll do to us.”

He gave us a sheepish look.“Um, yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks.”

And then we made our way to the exit as one cat, running as fast as our little legs could carry us, which, I can tell you from experience, is pretty darn fast.

And as we raced through the next room in this vast underground lair, I suddenly saw a familiar figure sitting on the floor inside what looked like a man-made cage.

“Hey, Uncle Alec!” I shouted, for it was him. Uncle Alec looked up.

“Max?” he said when he caught sight of me. “Is that you?”

“Don’t go anywhere,” I said. “We’ll go and get help.”

“Go and get help! I’ll stay here!” he said, sounding like a cuckoo clock.

And then we were tripping up a pair of moss-covered, slick stone stairs.

Once upstairs, Dooley said,“Oh, I’ve been here before.”

And so he had. So now it was his turn to lead the way. We all followed him into a room that had once been inhabitable, then onto a windowsill, and following in Dooley’s pawsteps we made the jump down to the ground, narrowly avoiding glass shards, brambles, and decaying pieces of wood, and then we were out. And free at last!

And suddenly I saw three familiar figures exiting the house next door.

Odelia, Chase, and Gran!

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Marco Lynd had just run down to the corner shop for a six-pack and some frozen pizza and was coming up on the old Buschmann house, his trusty dog Boomer on a tight leash, when a strange sight met his eyes. From inside the house, a sea of cats was emerging, and of course no one was there to stop them.

So he broke into a run.“Gordo!” he shouted. “Gordo!”

Releasing Boomer from his leash, he ran into the house, then straight into the kitchen, where he and Gordo had set up their headquarters.

Of course Gordo was watching a game on the small-screen TV. A swarthy man with thick eyebrows, a bushy beard and a distinct stoop, he barked,“Finally! Where have you been, buddy? I’m starving!” And he reached for the six-pack and cracked one loose.

“The cats!” Marco said, panting. “They’re…”

“They’re what?”

“They’re escaping, you moron!”

Gordo’s eyes went wide, and he sprang from his seat, or he would have if he hadn’t tipped his chair back, and it now overbalanced and dumped its occupant on the floor, open beer can and all. The beer doused his beard and made a mess, and by the time Marco helped his buddy up and they were out of thekitchen, the cats were long gone.