Page 95 - Tomcats in Paradise

Hours passed; the captive cats settled down for the night, each
according to his condition. Some were laid out still as death, barely
breathing; others huddled in a corner of their cell, mewing softly.
Billy Bob Cat could not sleep; he was accustomed to nocturnal
prowling, and the impending tortures preyed upon his mind.
Suddenly a commotion outside the room came to his ears: a
snapping, crashing sound and then the door burst open.