Not wanting to be pushy I left it a good half hour before sending my new literary agent a polite nudge. ‘Dearest Miss Throppy, I have checked my diary and a meet-up for lunch tomorrow would work for me. I would prefer that you come here as I am not good with roads. I do not partake of alcohol, but feel free to bring a carton of cream.To make sure that the email was read, I sent it half a dozen times. Imagine my excitement when barely thirty seconds later I received a gushing reply. ‘Are you spayed? If not, I can point you in the right direction.’ Having established a positive rapport, I wrote back straight away. ‘Darling Annunciate, you are too kind. Would it be presumptuous of me to ask that you reduce your usual commission to two percent and waive your fee for negotiating film rights? I have Cat Deeley in mind for the lead role and possibly Kat Dennings as Miss Tiddles. I am open to suggestions for Rover if Jaimie Foxxe is not available. In no time at all I received this . . . Erase my details from your address book this minute, you anserine ignoration. Your addlepated upchuck is breathtaking in its brazen audacity. Well, between you, me and my editor,long words bother the lives out of me. But I believe the gist was that Miss Throppy wished to terminate our contract. She is, after all, extremely busy. But still, it was very sweet of her to let me know personally rather than delegate the task to her computer. It is fair to say that I was flateared.

Having time on my paws, I scrabbled onto the windowledge to watch squirrels – pesky tree-rats as they are known in the feline fraternity – scurry along the garden fence while I waited for dog to go walkies so I could wolf down his dinner.

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