Read Online The Nine Lives of Christmas by Sheila Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sheila Roberts
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What was so funny?
* * *
Ambrose knew he had to do something to redeem himself for his behavior when Zach and the cat-killer took him to see the Santa monster. But how?
Of course! He’d bring Zach a present. The early morning was frigid and there was frost on the ground, but Ambrose was a hunter. He could endure cold if it meant finding some juicy prey. And he had to find something this morning. It would be a bad idea to delay offering a sacrifice to Zach to prove his penitence.
He spent a good, long time huddled beneath a bush by the back door before his patience was finally rewarded. A fat robin landed on a bush and began foraging for berries. Ambrose crept forward inch by careful inch, his eyes never leaving the bird. Get the prey, get the prey. You must succeed .
Succeed he did. He took down the bird with a giant leap and in no time the thing was dead and mostly gone. After all, Ambrose had worked up an appetite with all that hunting. But he saved the very best delicacy for Zach, his family: the feet.
He picked them up and carried them in his mouth as carefully as if he were a mother with her kitten, forcing himself back through the dreaded cat door—using that thing still made his fur crawl—and into the eating room. He padded through the room and then trotted down the hall and up the stairs to the sleeping room where Zach and the cougar had disappeared the night before.
The door was slightly ajar and Ambrose slipped through, quiet as a shadow. Ah, he was in luck. Zach was in the room with the big drinking bowl, cleaning himself with water. ( Ugh .) Ambrose could leave his present as a surprise on Zach’s pillow. He only hoped Zach wouldn’t share it with the undeserving cougar.
He jumped onto the bed and carefully deposited his gift. Then he hopped off and positioned himself by the door where he could see Zach’s delighted reaction to his big surprise. This would be great.
A moment later the cougar rolled over, stretched, and then looked for Zach. Then she looked at his pillow. Puzzled, she picked up one of the bird feet Ambrose had laid out so carefully.
No, that is not for you!
Suddenly the cougar let out a shriek and dropped the foot like it was dog feces. She dove from the bed, tangling herself in the blankets in the process and losing her balance. That sent her flying like a giant plucked bird into the nearby dresser. She bounced off of it and stumbled toward the middle of the room, stubbing a foot in the process and howling in pain.
Now Zach was in the room, staring at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Bird feet!” she wailed, pointing at the bed.
Zach looked confused. “What?”
“Bird feet, bird feet, BIRD FEET!” She started running toward the door, probably with murder in her heart.
Ambrose didn’t wait to see what happened next. He dashed out of the room and down the stairs.
And, oh no! Here came the cougar thumping along right behind him, still howling, feathers flying from the scanty bit of black cloth she was wearing. It was like being chased by that huge black dog all over again. Driven by terror, Ambrose did what any good cat in need of safety would do. He scaled the nearest tree.
What had he been thinking, climbing a Christmas tree! Did he have a death wish? Christmas trees were death traps. It had been a sizzling jolt from something on a Christmas tree that cost him his first life. Oh, not good. Not good at all. The thing tottered and swayed, its decorations jingling. He couldn’t stay here.
He took what humans called a leap of faith, launching himself from the dangerous tree before it could fall. The tree went one way and Ambrose sailed another. He landed right on the cougar, who let out a screech and sent him flying again even as the tree toppled with a crunch of ornaments.
Ambrose managed to land on his feet and bolted for the safety of the couch. Even as he squeezed under it the cougar was screaming all kinds of words he knew weren’t nice. And
* * *
Ambrose knew he had to do something to redeem himself for his behavior when Zach and the cat-killer took him to see the Santa monster. But how?
Of course! He’d bring Zach a present. The early morning was frigid and there was frost on the ground, but Ambrose was a hunter. He could endure cold if it meant finding some juicy prey. And he had to find something this morning. It would be a bad idea to delay offering a sacrifice to Zach to prove his penitence.
He spent a good, long time huddled beneath a bush by the back door before his patience was finally rewarded. A fat robin landed on a bush and began foraging for berries. Ambrose crept forward inch by careful inch, his eyes never leaving the bird. Get the prey, get the prey. You must succeed .
Succeed he did. He took down the bird with a giant leap and in no time the thing was dead and mostly gone. After all, Ambrose had worked up an appetite with all that hunting. But he saved the very best delicacy for Zach, his family: the feet.
He picked them up and carried them in his mouth as carefully as if he were a mother with her kitten, forcing himself back through the dreaded cat door—using that thing still made his fur crawl—and into the eating room. He padded through the room and then trotted down the hall and up the stairs to the sleeping room where Zach and the cougar had disappeared the night before.
The door was slightly ajar and Ambrose slipped through, quiet as a shadow. Ah, he was in luck. Zach was in the room with the big drinking bowl, cleaning himself with water. ( Ugh .) Ambrose could leave his present as a surprise on Zach’s pillow. He only hoped Zach wouldn’t share it with the undeserving cougar.
He jumped onto the bed and carefully deposited his gift. Then he hopped off and positioned himself by the door where he could see Zach’s delighted reaction to his big surprise. This would be great.
A moment later the cougar rolled over, stretched, and then looked for Zach. Then she looked at his pillow. Puzzled, she picked up one of the bird feet Ambrose had laid out so carefully.
No, that is not for you!
Suddenly the cougar let out a shriek and dropped the foot like it was dog feces. She dove from the bed, tangling herself in the blankets in the process and losing her balance. That sent her flying like a giant plucked bird into the nearby dresser. She bounced off of it and stumbled toward the middle of the room, stubbing a foot in the process and howling in pain.
Now Zach was in the room, staring at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Bird feet!” she wailed, pointing at the bed.
Zach looked confused. “What?”
“Bird feet, bird feet, BIRD FEET!” She started running toward the door, probably with murder in her heart.
Ambrose didn’t wait to see what happened next. He dashed out of the room and down the stairs.
And, oh no! Here came the cougar thumping along right behind him, still howling, feathers flying from the scanty bit of black cloth she was wearing. It was like being chased by that huge black dog all over again. Driven by terror, Ambrose did what any good cat in need of safety would do. He scaled the nearest tree.
What had he been thinking, climbing a Christmas tree! Did he have a death wish? Christmas trees were death traps. It had been a sizzling jolt from something on a Christmas tree that cost him his first life. Oh, not good. Not good at all. The thing tottered and swayed, its decorations jingling. He couldn’t stay here.
He took what humans called a leap of faith, launching himself from the dangerous tree before it could fall. The tree went one way and Ambrose sailed another. He landed right on the cougar, who let out a screech and sent him flying again even as the tree toppled with a crunch of ornaments.
Ambrose managed to land on his feet and bolted for the safety of the couch. Even as he squeezed under it the cougar was screaming all kinds of words he knew weren’t nice. And
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