Read Online Cat Breaking Free by Shirley Rousseau Murphy - Free Book Online Page B

of their lights running along the undersides of the trees.
    Slipping out of the tower and leaping up onto its hexagonal roof, he reared up like a weather vane, watching the wild race of red-lit vehicles hurtling between the cottages, heading up the hills—and he could hear, from up the hills, faint shouting, men shouting. Rearing taller, he could see an eerie red glow flickering. Fire. Fire, up around the high school. A tongue of flame licked at the sky, and another, and a twisting cloud of red burst into the night. He was poised to leap away across the roofs to follow when, below him on the dark street, three unlighted police cars slipped past him as silent as hunting sharks.
    But these cars were not headed for the high school, they made straight for the center of the village, moving fast and quietly. He glimpsed them once, crossing Ocean, then lost them among the roofs and night shadows. He stood studying the silent village looking for some disturbance, but saw nothing, no one running, no swift escaping movement. He heard no shouts, no sound at all. Saw no sudden cops’ spotlights reflecting against the sky. What the hell was happening? He was crouched to race across the roofs for a look when, from below in the study, Clyde began shouting. Joe stared down toward the study and bedroom, and dropped down to the shingles again and through the tower and cat door, peering down from the rafter.
    Clyde’s shouts came from the bottom of the stairs. “He’s worse, Joe. His breathing’s bad—we’re off to the vet. Call him, Joe. Punch code two. Call him now, tell him you’re a houseguest, that I’m on my way.” AndClyde was gone, Joe heard the front door slam, then the car doors, and the roadster roared to a start and skidded out of the drive, took off burning rubber.
    Leaping down to the desk, Joe hit the speaker button and the digit for Dr. Firetti; he felt dizzy and sick inside.
    â€œFiretti.” The doctor answered sleepily, on the first ring. Joe imagined him jerking awake in his little stucco cottage next to the clinic, pulling himself from sleep. “Yes? What?” Firetti said.
    â€œThis…I’m a friend of Clyde Damen, Clyde’s on his way. Rube’s worse, really sick. He should be…”
    â€œJust pulled in,” Firetti shouted from a distance as if he’d laid down the phone to pull on his pants. Joe heard a door click open, heard faintly Firetti shouting to Clyde; then the silence of an open line.
    Seeing in his mind the familiar clinic with its cold metal tables, but with friendly pictures of cats and dogs on the walls, seeing old Rube lying prone on a metal table gasping for breath, Joe clicked off the phone. And he sat among the papers he’d scattered, thinking about Rube. Seeing Dr. Firetti’s caring face peering down the way he did, leaning over you while you shivered on the table. Seeing Clyde’s worried face, beside Firetti. And Joe prayed hard for Rube.
    Then there was nothing else he could do. He hated idle waiting. He was crouched to leap back to the roof, when the white cat came up the stairs announcing her distress with tiny, forlorn mewls. She padded into the study and stood shakily below the desk staring up at him, crying.
    Dropping to the floor, Joe licked Snowball’s face, trying to ease her. She knew Rube was in trouble, thislittle cat knew very well what was happening. Snowball was, of all three household cats, by far the most intelligent and sensitive.
    â€œIt’s all right, Snowball. He has good care. He’ll be…he’ll be the best he can be,” Joe said gently.
    Snowball looked up at him trustingly, the way she always trusted him, this innocent, delicate little cat. “It’s all right,” he said. “You have to trust Clyde, you have to trust the doctor.”
    Joe nudged her up into the big leather chair, where she obediently curled down into a little ball. He was tucking the