life seemed rather dull. While he spent part of each day talking to customers, or opening fresh consignments from publishers, or rearranging the books on display, most of the time he remained behind the counter, glued to his computer. Exactly what he was working on was a mystery. When speaking to Serena, he sometimes used terms like inventory program, publishers’ catalogs, and accounting package . And he often joked about being a geek, liberated the moment he sat behind a keyboard.
But for all those hours? Every day? That made me all the more curious about what I would discover at the top of the stairs.
There was no question that Sam had an interesting mind. People often pronounced him an amazing thinker after a conversation in which they had discussed subjects like the spontaneous manifestation of Tibetan symbols on cave walls, or the similarities between the biographies and teachings of Jesus and Buddha. I wondered if his apartment would be similarly engaging.
I was still mulling over the possibilities when I finally reached the top of the stairs. Realizing that my appearance would be unexpected, I inched forward carefully. Squeezing through the gap between the door and the doorjamb, I found myself in a large, sparsely furnished room. The stark white walls were bare, devoid of pictures. On the left side of the room there was a double bed covered with a faded blue duvet. On the wall to the right were two windows with wooden Venetian blinds. Against the wall opposite the door was a desk with three large computer monitors. Sam was sitting at the desk with his back to me. The floor around him was covered with a tangle of cables and computer equipment.
So this was how Sam spent his evenings? Exchanging a seat in front of the screen downstairs for a seat in front of another? There was a beanbag chair in one corner of the apartment. But from the looks of things, most of Sam’s time was spent at the computer. Right now he was involved in a video conference call, and there were thumbnail images of the other participants on the monitor screens. I’d heard him explain to Serena that this was one way he kept up with authors, managing sometimes to coax any who were traveling through India to visit the store for a talk or a book signing.
With Sam engrossed in video conferencing, I glanced around the room. My attention was drawn to a cluster of small, round, neon-yellow objects that I instantly recognized from the sports segment on TV: golf balls! Beside them, resting against the door frame, was a putter.
Stealthily I crept toward the balls. When I was a short distance away I crouched down in the stance of a jungle beast and then pounced on the balls, sending one skating across the floor at high speed. It hit the baseboard on the opposite wall with a sharp thwack.
Sam spun around and caught me with my paws wrapped around another ball and my mouth open as if to take a bite.
“Rinpoche!” he called out, looking from me to the open door. I flicked away the ball and scampered around the room in a mad frenzy before leaping onto his bed.
He grinned.
“What’s happening?” a voice said from one of the speakers.
Sam trained his camera on me for a moment. “Unexpected visitor.”
From around the world came a chorus of ooh-ing and ah-ing.
“I didn’t know you were into cats,” said a man with an American accent.
Sam shook his head. “Not as a rule, but this one is rather special. You see, she’s the Dalai Lama’s Cat.”
“And she visits you in your home ?” someone asked, incredulous.
“Totally awesome!” exclaimed another.
“She’s adorable,” cooed yet another.
There was great excitement for a few moments as everyone took time to digest this globally significant news. Once normal conversation had resumed, I returned to the golf balls. I hadn’t realized how reassuringly solid they were. And such heft! I now knew why golfers could send them flying long distances.
I flicked another ball across the floor
But for all those hours? Every day? That made me all the more curious about what I would discover at the top of the stairs.
There was no question that Sam had an interesting mind. People often pronounced him an amazing thinker after a conversation in which they had discussed subjects like the spontaneous manifestation of Tibetan symbols on cave walls, or the similarities between the biographies and teachings of Jesus and Buddha. I wondered if his apartment would be similarly engaging.
I was still mulling over the possibilities when I finally reached the top of the stairs. Realizing that my appearance would be unexpected, I inched forward carefully. Squeezing through the gap between the door and the doorjamb, I found myself in a large, sparsely furnished room. The stark white walls were bare, devoid of pictures. On the left side of the room there was a double bed covered with a faded blue duvet. On the wall to the right were two windows with wooden Venetian blinds. Against the wall opposite the door was a desk with three large computer monitors. Sam was sitting at the desk with his back to me. The floor around him was covered with a tangle of cables and computer equipment.
So this was how Sam spent his evenings? Exchanging a seat in front of the screen downstairs for a seat in front of another? There was a beanbag chair in one corner of the apartment. But from the looks of things, most of Sam’s time was spent at the computer. Right now he was involved in a video conference call, and there were thumbnail images of the other participants on the monitor screens. I’d heard him explain to Serena that this was one way he kept up with authors, managing sometimes to coax any who were traveling through India to visit the store for a talk or a book signing.
With Sam engrossed in video conferencing, I glanced around the room. My attention was drawn to a cluster of small, round, neon-yellow objects that I instantly recognized from the sports segment on TV: golf balls! Beside them, resting against the door frame, was a putter.
Stealthily I crept toward the balls. When I was a short distance away I crouched down in the stance of a jungle beast and then pounced on the balls, sending one skating across the floor at high speed. It hit the baseboard on the opposite wall with a sharp thwack.
Sam spun around and caught me with my paws wrapped around another ball and my mouth open as if to take a bite.
“Rinpoche!” he called out, looking from me to the open door. I flicked away the ball and scampered around the room in a mad frenzy before leaping onto his bed.
He grinned.
“What’s happening?” a voice said from one of the speakers.
Sam trained his camera on me for a moment. “Unexpected visitor.”
From around the world came a chorus of ooh-ing and ah-ing.
“I didn’t know you were into cats,” said a man with an American accent.
Sam shook his head. “Not as a rule, but this one is rather special. You see, she’s the Dalai Lama’s Cat.”
“And she visits you in your home ?” someone asked, incredulous.
“Totally awesome!” exclaimed another.
“She’s adorable,” cooed yet another.
There was great excitement for a few moments as everyone took time to digest this globally significant news. Once normal conversation had resumed, I returned to the golf balls. I hadn’t realized how reassuringly solid they were. And such heft! I now knew why golfers could send them flying long distances.
I flicked another ball across the floor
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