Literary fame is mine

The owners of Artie-at-No-17 went to Jess's author evening the other day, apparently. At the end of the readings came question time. Mrs-Artie's-Owner put up her hand and asked whether there were any cats in the book. I couldn't believe that Jess had actually selected passages to read that did NOT contain the feline stars of the story, but...

The good news, however, is that there are cats and they are crucial. Sasha, Adam and their children - the family on which the book centres - have two, named Bill and Ben (a certain generation of British adults collapse in fits of laughter when hearing those names together. I can't work it out.) Bill is ginger, Ben is black. Lisa, Sasha's lonely sister, has a black and white cat named Igor, after Stravinsky. Igor plays a particularly vital role, but my favourite, of course, is Bill. He comforts Sasha when she is upset, so he's a hero. But as he is a ginger cat living on a cul-de-sac in East Sheen, there can be no doubt that he is based on ME. Were he unduly fluffy, I'd worry that he might have been based on Artie, but no: Bill is a good, plain ginger mog of the very best kind.

My owner has preserved me on paper for all time. I shall be immortal, in the form of Bill. How many cats can say the same? Prrrrr prrrrrrrrrrr prrrrrrrrr prrrrrrrrrrrr...