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And so before we knew it, we suddenly found ourselves thrown into a large chest, and when the lid slammed down on top of us, I suddenly realized our predicament.

“Max!” Harriet cried as darkness descended upon us. “He caught us!”

And when suddenly the chest was opened once more and two more cats were deposited inside, it was clear that our strategy had backfired to a substantial degree.

We were, for all intents and purposes, in quite the pickle!

Chapter 2

“It’s dark in here, Max.”

“I know, Dooley.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh, could you please stop talking, the both of you,” said Harriet. “I’m trying to figure out a way to get us out of here and all this babble is making it hard for me to think.”

“Why don’t we simply put our backs into it?” Brutus suggested. “I mean, the lid on this thing can’t be that heavy, can it?”

“Good idea, snuggle bear,” said Harriet. “Max, Dooley, up,” she instructed, our unexpected captivity making her a little more snappish than usual.

So Dooley and I dutifully did as we were told and arched our backs so we could raise the lid on our makeshift prison. Unfortunately the thing didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

“I think he locked it,” I said.

“How do you know it was a he, Max?” asked Dooley. “Couldn’t it have been a she?”

“It could have been a she,” I allowed. After all, it was hard to make out who our assailant was underneath that motorcycle helmet.

“So now what, Brutus?” asked Harriet, who was still focused on the task at hand, and much to her credit, too, I might add.

“Now we wait,” Brutus suggested.

“Wait for what? Santa Claus?”

“Now we wait for someone to come and save us,” he said. “Sooner or later Marge or Gran or Odelia will realize we’ve gone missing, and that’s when they’ll come looking.”

“They’ll never find us in here,” said Harriet, offering the pessimistic view. “Unless…”

I could almost hear her brain working—it was even starting to radiate heat as it did.

“It’s getting very hot in here,” announced Dooley, who’d noticed the same thing.

“That’s because this is a very small space and we’re four cats in here,” I said, not wanting to cast aspersions on Harriet’s brain.

“No, but it’s getting very, very hot in here,” my friend said.

And I have to admit that he was right. It was getting extremely hot in that chest.

And then I saw it: a glow was lighting up our new unfavorite spot, to such an extent it couldn’t possibly be caused by Harriet’s brain. She’s a smart cat, but not that smart.

“We’re on fire!” suddenly Harriet cried out. “The attic must be on fire!”

“Oh, no!” cried Dooley. “I don’t like fire. Fires are very dangerous. The Discovery Channel warns against fires all the time! Fires, like, kill things.”

I swallowed a little. This wasn’t good. I mean, the likes of Houdini would probably have uttered a careless little laugh at a predicament such as the one we now found ourselves in: he’d even have added a few more obstacles to make it really interesting. Like shackles. Or a harness. But for me this was already more than bad enough, to be honest!

“Oh, Max, we’re going to die,” Dooley announced. He gulped a little, then said, “I think you guys are the best friends a cat could ever have had the pleasure to meet, and I want you to know that it’s been an honor. And a pleasure. In fact an honor and a pleasure.”

“Oh, Dooley, shut up for a second, will you?” said Harriet. “Maybe this fire is the best thing that could have happened to us. This chest is made of wood, right? And what is one of the basic characteristics of wood?”

“That it feels nice and warm under the paws, especially in the wintertime?” Brutus suggested.

“That it burns!”

“Oh, right. Of course.” He paused, then: “So, um, how does that help us?”

“This fire is going to burn right through this wood in the next couple of minutes, and when that happens, we should be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to die!” said Dooley. “I have a confession to make. Last month, I accidentally peed in your litter box, Brutus. I was in a hurry and I accidentally went into your box by mistake. And by the time I realized, I’d already tinkled in your litter box. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Look, let’s all focus for a moment,” I said. “Harriet made a very valid point: wood burns, and so this fire is going to eat through this chest soon, and when it does we have to be ready to make a run for it.”

“But if the chest is on fire, won’t the entire attic be on fire?” Brutus said. “And isn’t that going to make it a little hard to make a run for it? My paws are not made of Teflon, you know.”

“And then two weeks ago I accidentally did number two inyour litter box, Harriet,” Dooley continued his timely confession. “I couldn’t hold it up long enough to reach my own so I went into yours instead! I’m so sorry!”

“We don’t know what the situation is outside of this chest,” said Harriet. “But we have to stay positive and hope for the best.”