Excerpt from The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa, Philip Gabriel, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

According to what I heard, he was the type whose legs went all spongy when someone grabbed the back of his neck. A cat who couldn't catch mice, in other words. Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. A real cat would immediately fold in its legs.

Me? I'm a real cat, naturally. I caught my first sparrow when I was less than six months old. And catching something with wings is a lot trickier than catching any four-legged land creature, believe you me.

'When he was playing with a catnip toy he'd go dizzy, chasing it around.'

''Cause he was usually pretty placid.'

'What about Nana?'

'He loves mouse toys. The kind made out of rabbit fur.'

Hold on a sec. I can't let that pass. Since when did I love that awful fake mouse?

It smells like the real thing, so if you throw it near me, of course I'll fight with it, but no matter how much I chomp on it, no tasty juice comes out. So when I finally calm down I'm worn out, and the whole thing's been a total waste of time, d'you understand?

There's that manga on TV sometimes where the samurai cuts down a dingbat and sighs, 'That was a waste of a good sword.' To me, that's kind of how it feels. You've hunted down yet another useless thing. (By the way, Satoru prefers the shows with guns.) The least they could do would be to stuff those toys with white meat. But could I take this complaint to the pet-toymakers? Stop worrying about what the owners think and pay some attention to your real clients. Your real clients are folk like me.

In any case, after one of those pointless chases, I usually let off steam with a good walk. But Satoru usually tags along, and that makes it hard to do any successful hunting.

What I mean is, the minute I spot some decent game, Satoru interferes. Deliberately makes some careless noise or movement. When I glare at him, he feigns ignorance, but all that racket gives us away, thank you very much.

When I get upset and wave my tail energetically sideways, he gives me this pathetic look and tries to explain.

You have lots of crunchies at home to eat, don't you? You don't need to kill anything. Even if you catch something, Nana, you barely eat it.

You idiot, idiot, idiooooootttt! Every living creature on earth is born with an instinct to kill! You can try to dodge it by bringing in vegetarianism, but you just don't hear a plant scream when you kill it! Hunting down what can be hunted is a cat's natural instinct! Sometimes we hunt things but don't eat them, but that's what training is all about.

My god, what spineless creatures they are, those that don't kill the food they eat. Satoru's a human being, of course, so he just doesn't get it.

'Is Nana good at hunting, too?'

'She's beyond good! She snagged pigeons that landed on our porch.'

Right you are. Those blasted birds get all superior in human territory. I thought I'd show them what's what. And Satoru, all teary-eyed, always asked, 'Why do you catch them if you're not going to eat them?' If that's the way you think, then don't interfere when I hunt on our walks.

And didn't Satoru complain about pigeon droppings on the laundry he'd hung out to dry? He'd be happy if I chased away the pigeons, and I'd get to hunt. Literally, two birds with one stone, so why the complaints? And by the bye, ever since that incident, the pigeons have never come near our porch again, but have I heard a word of thanks? Still waiting!

'It was a real problem that time,' Satoru said. 'A sparrow or a mouse I could bury in the bushes next to the apartment building, but something the size of a pigeon, that's a different story. I ended up burying it in a park, and the only conclusion anybody who spotted me, a thirty-year-old man burying a pigeon, could come to is that I was a pretty dodgy character.'

Excerpted from The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.