The Nine Lives of Christmas by Sheila Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

bed in the morning, dreaming he was feasting on a nice, fat mouse, when Zach picked him up. “Hey, guy, it’s showtime.”
    Showtime? That had to mean they were going to watch something on Zach’s TV. Zach would make a home for Ambrose on his lap and pet him. What a good idea! Ambrose allowed himself to be carried downstairs.
    But as they reached the foot of the stairs Ambrose spied the pet carrier and … the cougar. Oh, no! They were not putting him in that thing.
    Zach had anticipated Ambrose’s reaction, though, and even as he tried to propel himself to freedom, Zach held him tighter. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, and the next thing Ambrose knew he was caged.
    Zach should feel sorry, Ambrose thought indignantly. This was betrayal of trust, plain and simple. He watched from behind his prison bars as Blair Baby showed Zach the hat she’d brought for Ambrose, a small version of the silly red hats with the white pom-pom that some humans wore this time of year in honor of the Santa monster.
    “This will cover his torn ear,” she said. “It’s got an elastic strap so it will stay on.”
    She had to get it on first, and if she thought Ambrose was going to let her anywhere near him with the ridiculous thing she could just think again. A dog would go along with such nonsense and think it a great joke, but no self-respecting cat would lower himself to that level.
    “That may be pushing it,” Zach said doubtfully.
    There was an understatement.
    “Oh, he’ll be fine,” said the cougar.
    He would not!
    The next thing Ambrose knew, he was airborne and swinging like a bird in a cage. Eeew . He was going to be sick. He watched bushes and lawn and trees pass dizzily by and then he was in the back of the shiny black car. Zach and the cougar climbed in front and the engine roared to life. Once again Ambrose was moving … and getting more nervous by the second. Why was Zach torturing him like this?
    The cougar, of course. It had probably been her idea to install that horrible pet door.
    Oh, the terror he had felt at the mere sight of the thing. It had brought back vivid memories of his most humiliating death. Granted, if he hadn’t dug his claws into poor Snoopy and ridden the crazed beagle all over the house he wouldn’t have met his end in the first place. Those pet doors weren’t meant for piggy-backing pets. Snoopy had ducked through theirs at the last minute and, like some silly cartoon character, Ambrose had crashed into the actual door. The impact had broken his neck. So, yes, his bad. He’d gotten what he deserved, but still, those things should be outlawed. And women who convinced impressionable men to install them should be put down.
    It felt like an eternity before the car stopped. Zach took the cat carrier from the backseat and Ambrose got a view of an endless field of cars. In front of them loomed a big, big building. Ambrose huddled in the corner of his cage. This wasn’t going to be good.
    Inside, the building was larger than all the houses Ambrose had lived in put together. And scary, with humans milling around and … dogs!
    Ambrose backed farther into the corner of his cage. This was worse than the animal shelter. At least there the horrible beasts were behind bars where they belonged. Here they strolled around on thin leashes attended by distracted humans. Ambrose’s fur began to stand on end. This was awful. And they hadn’t even gotten to the Santa monster yet. At this rate Ambrose would probably never live to complete his assignment and save Zach. He’d die of fright right here. Good-bye life number nine.
    He bobbed and swayed as Zach carried him across the huge place. Somewhere a chorus of cats was meowing “Silent Night,” a Christmas carol Ambrose remembered from past lives. But he didn’t see any of his fellow felines. Where were they, and how could they be so calmly singing in such a dangerous place? Were they brain damaged?
    Finally Zach set the cage down and Ambrose got a close up