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TitleNine Lives Last Forever
Author
LanguageEnglish
File Size787.4 KB
Total Pages90
Table of Contents
                            Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
PART I - Wednesday Morning
	A SLIPPERY INTRUDER
PART II - Sunday Morning
	AN UNEXPECTED GUEST
PART III - The Days—and Frogs—in Between . . .
	Chapter 7 - THE GRAND TOUR . . . CONTINUED
	Chapter 10 - AN EARLY MORNING RIDE TO THE CLIFF HOUSE
	Chapter 17 - REDWOOD PARK—REVISITED
	Chapter 18 - “WHAT’S WITH THE FROGS?”
	Chapter 23 - NO WAY TO TREAT A CAT
	Chapter 25 - IN THE MAYOR’S OFFICE
	Chapter 26 - MONTY’S MISSION
	Chapter 29 - SUTRO’S MISSING FORTUNE
	Chapter 31 - UNCLE OSCAR’S FRIED CHICKEN RECIPE
	Chapter 34 - FOLLOW THAT FROG!
	Chapter 37 - THE MYSTERY OF THE MIGRATING FROGS
	Chapter 38 - UP, UP, UP
PART IV - The Final Frogs
                        
Document Text Contents
Page 45

his lips and drawing out a long, curving mustache. “Your Uncle Oscar had more
panache than that. He was more like . . . !”
I pursed my lips to stifle a retort as my eyes focused back in on the photo

where Frank Napis and my uncle stood, shoulder to shoulder, smiling in a
friendship I knew to be fake. The sight made me cringe.
“And, now?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer. “What is the

significance of a frog appearing now?”
“It means they’re back!” Monty announced exuberantly. “The VC is back in

action!”
He started jumping up and down on the squeaky floorboards, triumphantly

throwing his hands in the air before finally bubbling out.
“And the best part is— ’ve been recruited!”

Page 46

Chapter 23

NO WAY TO TREAT A CAT

EARLY THE NEXT morning, a disgruntled Rupert stalked grumpily into the
Green Vase showroom. He stomped over to the cashier counter and glowered up
at the woman sitting on the stool behind it. His whiskers twitched with irritation
as he angrily his tail against the floorboards.
What kind of a person returns to the house smelling like fried chicken and

doesn’t bring any back for Rupert? It made no sense to him. He was deeply
affronted.
He’d been up half of the night, making his concerns known to the woman

sleeping in his bed. He’d bounced up and down on the blankets, swished his tail
in her face, and pounced at every movement she made beneath the covers. He’d
experimented with various howling sounds aimed at communicating his
displeasure. But none of these efforts had produced the desired result. No fried
chicken had appeared in his dinner bowl.
After all of these exertions, Rupert had finally fallen asleep, his head dug into

his person’s chicken-smelling hair. The scent had surrounded him, permeating
his dreams— dreams that were filled with bowls and bowls full of scrumptious
fried chicken. He’d made loud smacking noises with his mouth as he slept; he
could almost taste the crisp, greasy texture.
Sometime around three or four o’clock the following morning, Rupert had

woken, a renewed hope in his stomach. There was a faint whiff of fried chicken
in the air—he was almost certain of it—and it was emanating from a source
other than his chicken-stingy person or those green chicken-smelling books.
Somewhere in the apartment above the Green Vase, there must be a hidden
cache of fried chicken.
Rupert began his search in the kitchen. It seemed like the most logical

location. That was where Oscar had always prepared fried chicken. Rupert
sighed in reminiscence. He really missed Uncle Oscar.
Rupert hopped up on top of the kitchen counters, checking each one for a clue

to the location of the fried chicken smell. He persistently nosed his way into
each of the cabinets, meticulously inspecting the contents. He even peeked

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