The Dalai Lama's Cat Read Free Page B

ground. There was no way I could outrun them. The leather of their shoes slapping the pavement became a thunder!
    Then I spotted a small gap between brick columns that supported a verandah floor. An opening that led under the building. It was a tight squeeze, and I had very little time. Plus, I had no idea where the gap led. But as I bolted inside, the pandemonium abruptly ended. I found myself in a large crawl space between the ground and wooden floorboards. It was dark and dusty, and there was a constant, dull drumming of foot traffic overhead. But at least I was safe. I wondered how long I would need to stay there until the schoolgirls had gone away. Brushing a cobweb from my face, I decided not to risk another attack.
    As my eyes and ears adjusted to my surroundings, I became aware of a scratching noise—a sporadic but insistent gnawing. I paused, nostrils flared, as I searched the air. For along with the sound of incisors chomping came a pungent whiff that set my whiskers tingling. My reaction, instantaneous and powerful, triggered a reflex I hadn’t even known I possessed.
    Even though I had never before seen a mouse, I recognized it immediately as a creature of prey. It was clinging to brickwork, its head half-buried in a wooden beam that it was hollowing out with its large front teeth.
    I moved stealthily, my approach masked by the constant sound of footfalls on the floor above.
    Instinct took over. With a single swipe of my front paw, I swept the rodent off balance and onto the ground, where it lay stunned. Leaning down, I sank my teeth into its neck. Its body went limp.
    I knew exactly what I must do next. Prey secured in my mouth, I padded back to the gap between the brick columns, checked the pavement traffic outside, and, seeing no Japanese schoolchildren, hurried back along the pavement and back inside the building. Dashing across the hallway, I made my way up the stairs to The Door. Shut tight.
    Now what? I sat there for quite some time, wondering how long I would have to wait, until finally someone from His Holiness’s staff arrived. Recognizing me but paying no attention to the trophy in my mouth, he let me in. I padded down the corridor and around the corner.
    Because the Dalai Lama was still at the temple, I went to the office of the executive assistants, dropping the mouse and announcing my arrival with an urgent meow. Responding to the unfamiliar tone, Chogyal and Tenzin both turned and looked at me in surprise as I stood there proudly, with the mouse on the carpet at my feet.
    Their reaction was nothing like I had expected. Exchanging a sharp glance, they both shot out of their chairs. Chogyal picked me up, and Tenzin knelt down over the motionless mouse.
    “Still breathing,” he said. “Probably in shock.”
    “The printer box,” Chogyal said, directing him to the empty cardboard box from which he had just removed a fresh ink cartridge.
    Using an old envelope as a brush, Tenzin herded the mouse into the empty container. He regarded it closely. “Where do you think—?”
    “This one has cobwebs on its whiskers,” observed Chogyal, cocking his head in my direction.
    This one? It?! Was that any way to refer to HHC?
    At that moment, the Dalai Lama’s driver came into the office. Tenzin handed him the box with instructions that the mouse was to be observed and, if it recovered, to be released in the forest nearby.
    “HHC must have gotten out,” said the driver, meeting my blue-eyed gaze.
    Chogyal was still holding me, not in his usual affectionate embrace but as though restraining a savage beast. “HHC. I’m not sure about that title anymore,” he said.
    “It was only a provisional title,” concurred Tenzin, returning to his desk. “But His Holiness’s Mouser doesn’t seem appropriate.”
    Chogyal put me back on the carpet.
    “What about just ‘Mouser’ for an ordination name?” suggested the driver. But because of his strong, Tibetan accent, it sounded like “Mousie.”
    All three