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of the work.) Moms fussed over the small ones and mated with the large male frequently. In spite of all that mating, moms rarely produced a litter. The few who did wound up appearing on television or in magazines. The rest managed to occasionally produce one small human called a baby, and when that happened, oh, the fussing that went on. Human babies took forever to grow into children. And children … ugh. They could be torture. They did everything from pulling a guy’s tail to stuffing him into doll clothes. Very humiliating. Moms still loved their children in spite of what the little monsters did to their cats, and children all gravitated to their moms. Whatever their age, they would often seek out those moms for long conversations about things like school projects and boys or work or how to cook a turkey.
    For some unknown reason, this man didn’t call his, but she called him and he didn’t seem very happy about it. He said things to her like “Yeah, the remodel is going fine.”
    Remodel. Was that what you called the mess the guy was making?
    He also said things like “I don’t think I can come” and “Sorry, Mom. I’ve got plans.”
    Tonight’s plans appeared to be with someone called Baby, obviously not the small, diapered version since this particular baby knew how to operate a phone. When the man talked with her he said things like “I can hardly wait to see you in it, Baby” and “Come on over. I’ll get takeout.”
    Baby was obviously someone important, Ambrose decided, as he and the man sat on the big leather couch, the man petting Ambrose as he talked.
    It didn’t sound like Ambrose was going to meet Mom anytime soon, but he would see Baby tonight. Ambrose licked his paw and began to slick back the fur on his head. A guy wanted to look his best when he met someone important in his human’s life.
    *   *   *
    Ambrose stared in horror as Baby stepped through the door. He knew this woman, this taker of lives, this callous creature who talked on her cell phone when she drove and ran over helpless cats who had so much to live for. His tail quivered at the memory of her standing over him, still talking on her cell phone.
    “What do I do? Pick it up? Are you crazy? It might bite me. Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”
    Her? What about him? He was the one who was dying.
    She hadn’t cared. It had been all about her. Still crying and babbling, she’d returned to her fancy car and roared off, leaving Ambrose alone and in pain. Heartless creature. For all she knew he could have been on his last life.
    And now, here she was again, back like a bad dream. She still had the same long, yellow fur on her head and her mouth was painted bloodred. She was wearing shoes designed to make her look almost as tall as the man and pants that stuck to her skinny legs. Over them she wore a long coat trimmed with … fur! If there’d been any doubt before there couldn’t be now. The woman was an animal hater.
    Why would this kind-hearted guy want to be around such a person? Was she even young enough to produce offspring? Like Ambrose, she’d seen a few lives since their last encounter. Ambrose could tell by the small cracks around her eyes.
    Well, this was simply further proof that the man wasn’t too bright and needed help from someone wiser, someone who had the kind of wisdom that could only come from having several lives under your collar.
    “I told James he doesn’t have to be home till midnight,” she said. “Which means I don’t have to be, either.” She slipped off her coat to reveal something black and shiny on her top half that barely covered her skin. “You like?” she purred.
    Oh, gag me with a hairball . What was there to like?
    Something, since the fool was eyeing her the same way Ambrose once watched the tempting canary that cost him his fourth life. “Oh, yeah,” the man said, and his voice, too, was a purr.
    Ambrose watched in disgust from his spot in front of the fire as they fit