She immediately called the priest, who said there still might be a chance to save the poor animal. "Give it two tablespoons of gasoline," he told her.
With trembling hands, Miss Peabody opened Count's mouth and carefully spooned in the priest's strange prescription.
The seconds ticked away and nothing happened. She was about to give up hope when suddenly the cat opened his eyes, let out an ear-piercing screech and shot across the room at a hundred miles per hour, running over the furniture, the walls, even the ceiling. Count kept this up for two minutes and then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, not moving a muscle.
Miss Peabody called the priest again.
"What do you think happened?" she asked.
"Simple," said the priest. "He ran out of gas."