The Dalai Lama's Cat (The Dalai Lama's Cat 1)

“I couldn’t possibly say. When people have an audience with the Dalai Lama, it’s completely confidential.”

The tabby’s eyes widened visibly. “At least give me a clue!” he pleaded.

“My professionalism forbids it,” I told him. Then, after we’d walked some distance, I added, “Let me just say that she is a blonde American talk show host.”

“There are so many.”

“You know, the one who is always getting her audiences to get up and dance. She’s a very good dancer herself.”

But the tiger tabby just wasn’t getting it.

“The one married to that stunningly beautiful actress who is a patron of stray cats.”

“Which stunningly beautiful actress is a patron of stray cats?”

Subtlety, I was discovering, was not my admirer’s middle name.

“Let’s not go there,” I said, refusing to abandon all my discretion. At the same time, I didn’t wish to seem completely standoffish. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Mambo,” he replied. “And yours?”

“I have a lot of names,” I began.

“Pedigrees usually do.”

I smiled, letting the misunderstanding pass. Isn’t it only because of circumstances that my impeccable family background is not formally documented?

“But you must have a usual name.”

“In my case,” I replied, “they’re initials. HHC.”

“HHC?”

“That’s right.” We were approaching the gates of Jokhang.

“What do they stand for?”

“That’s your homework, Mambo. You’re a streetwise cat.” I watched his muscled chest swell with pride. “I know you’ll work it out.”

I turned in the direction of Jokhang.

“How can I find you?” he called out.

“Look for me when you’re under the green light that burns all night.”

“I know the one.”

“And bring your gold hat.”

He was there the next night. I was on my sill but pretended not to see him. It wouldn’t do to be that easy. I wanted to test how devoted he really was.

When he meowed two nights later, I relented and went downstairs.

“I worked it out,” he told me when I was still some distance away from the stone he was sitting on—the same place he’d been when I caught my first glimpse of him.

“Worked out what?”

“His Holiness’s Cat. That’s who you are, isn’t it?”