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I stared up at that big red button and wondered how I was ever going to reach there when I got an idea. Cats can jump pretty high, but they can jump even higher when they take a running leap. What if I simply ran up to the button, and jumped as high as I possibly could?

So I gave it my best shot. I took a running leap at the thing and got liftoff, sailing as high as I could, my paw reaching out to hit that darn button.

Unfortunately I’m one of those cats that are built for comfort, not speed, or even height, so I didn’t actually manage to hit my target.

But I was undeterred, and decided to give it another shot. The second time I flew in a little lower than the first time, and the third time I missed the button by a wide margin. And so I sat, puffing and panting, and looking up at that button, my holy grail.

And I would probably have gone for a fourth attempt when I suddenly saw an old chair lying in a corner of the warehouse. So I shambled over and gave it a tentative kick with my paw. It didn’t look like much, but it just might do the trick.

I dragged it over as best I could, then managed to put it upright. Jumping on top of it was but the work of a moment, and when I stood on my tippy-toes and reached as high as I could, stretching the old spine… I finally managed to slam that sucker!

The gate responded with pleasant alacrity, and then I was hopping down from the chair, giving it a fist bump in gratitude, and sliding under the door and into the open air, which felt like a balm. And I’d just opened my mouth and was taking in big gulps of refreshing oxygen, when a big man with a white goatee walked up to me and arrested my progress—and sense of jubilation.

“Well done, fat cat,” said the man, whom I now recognized as Fred Peppard himself. “I knew I could count on you to show me something truly remarkable. As a reward for a splendid performance you can now join test group number two.”

He gestured with his head, which at first I thought was a nervous tick, and the same woman I’d made the acquaintance of before grabbed me by the neck and carried me away.

So much for my Herculean efforts to escape!

I was carted off into another, smaller room, and locked up in a bigger cage. But this time I was relieved when I suddenly heard familiar voices welcoming me into their midst: Dooley, Harriet and Brutus, and of course the rest of our cat choir contingent, were all there to greet me!

We were reunited. And still prisoners of Fred Peppard’s creepy Pet Food Company.

“How did you make it out of there, Max?” asked Dooley excitedly.

“I thought you guys did that,” I said honestly. “My cell door suddenly clicked open and I thought you’d somehow managed to hit some button somewhere and release me.”

“No, we didn’t hit any buttons,” said Harriet.

“We have been twiddling our thumbs a lot in here,” said Brutus. “But I don’t think that counts as staging a rescue attempt.”

“What is this place?” I asked, as I glanced around. Whereas the other cage I’d been held in was located inside a large warehouse, this was just a plain room, one wall consisting entirely of cages, and several small gates located in the opposite wall.

“I have no idea,” said Dooley, “but the kibble in here is much better than the kibble in our old place. Here. Have a taste.” And he flicked a piece of kibble in my direction.

I caught it open-mouthed and munched it down. Dooley was right. This stuff was a lot tastier than the previous stuff.“Yum,” I said. So Peppard was capable of creating cat kibble after all.

“So if we manage to escape again we’ll get even better kibble you think Dooley?” asked Shadow.

“Yeah, I’ll bet we do,” said Dooley. “Each time we escape, conditions improve. Unfortunately,” he added, “there doesn’t seem to be a way to escape this new prison.”

I’d immediately noticed that the cages were more sturdy, of better design, and the opening through which kibble dropped in small enough only to allow a rodent to pass through. And cats may be many things, but we’re definitely not rodents.

Suddenly, there was a clicking sound, followed by another clicking sound, and I noticed how both mine and Brutus’s cages had suddenly been opened. We tentatively pawed them open further, then walked out.

“Hey, not fair!” said Harriet as she shoved against her own cage. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I intimated. “It opened by itself.”

“Someone is playing games with us, Max,” said Brutus. “And I’m not sure I like it.”

He was right. We were being played by an unseen hand, though I had an idea the hand belonged to a man with a goatee whose image was on all Peppard pet products.

Suddenly the six little gates across the room swung open, and different objects appeared: four were plastic flowers, and the fifth and sixth were plastic rabbits.

Brutus glanced in my direction.“I have a feeling they want us to go after the rabbits, Max.”

“Yeah, too easy,” I conceded.

“So maybe do as they want? Or try the flowers instead?”