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

So you'll do something to help, won't you? I can't stand the pain much longer.

'There, there. You'll be okay, cat.'

The man laid me gently in a cardboard box lined with a fluffy towel and placed me in the front seat of the silver van.

We headed for the vet's clinic. That's like the worst place ever for me, so I'd rather not talk about it.

I ended up staying with the man until my wounds healed. He lived alone in his apartment and everything was neat and tidy. He set out a litter tray for me in the changing room beside the bath, and bowls of food and water in the kitchen.

Despite appearances, I'm a pretty intelligent, well-mannered cat, and I worked out how to use the toilet right away and never once soiled the floor. Tell me not to sharpen my claws on certain places, and I refrain. The walls and doorframes were forbidden so I used the furniture and rug for claw-sharpening. I mean, he never specifically mentioned that the furniture and the rug were off limits. (Admittedly, he did look a little put out at first, but I'm the kind of cat who can pick up on things, sniff out what's absolutely forbidden, and what isn't. The furniture and the rug weren't absolutely off limits, is what I'm saying.)

I think it took about two months to get the stitches out and for the bone to heal. During that time, I found out the man's name. Satoru Miyawaki.

Satoru kept calling me things like 'You', or 'Cat' or 'Mr Cat' ? whatever he felt like at the time. Which is understandable, since I didn't have a name at this point.

And even if I had had a name, Satoru didn't understand my language, so I wouldn't have been able to tell him. It's kind of inconvenient that humans only understand each other. Did you know that animals are much more multilingual?

Whenever I wanted to go outside, Satoru would frown and try to convince me that I shouldn't.

'If you go out, you might never come back. Just be patient, little cat. Wait until you're completely better. You don't want to have stitches in your leg for the rest of your life, do you?'

By this time, I was able to walk a little, though it still hurt, but seeing how put out Satoru looked, I endured house confinement for those two months, and I figured there were other benefits. It wouldn't do to be dragging my leg if a rival cat and I got into a scrap.

So I stayed put until my wound was at long last totally healed.

Satoru always used to stop me at the front door with a worried look, but now I stood there, meowing to be let out. Thank you for all you've done. I will be forever grateful. I wish you lifelong happiness, even if you never leave me another tidbit beneath that silver van.

Satoru didn't look worried so much as forlorn. The same way he seemed about the furniture and the rug. It's not totally off limits, but still … That sort of expression.

'Do you still prefer to live outside?'

Hang on now – enough with the teary face. You look like that, you'll start making me feel sad that I'm leaving.

And then, out of the blue, 'Listen, cat, I was wondering if you would become my cat.'

I had never considered this as an option. Being a dyed-in-the-wool stray, the thought of being someone's pet had never crossed my mind.

My idea was to let him look after me until I recovered, but I'd always planned to leave once my wound was healed. Let me rephrase that. I thought I had to leave.

As long as I was leaving, it would be a lot more dignified to slip out on my own rather than have someone shoo me away. Cats are proud creatures, after all.

If you wanted me to be your pet cat, then, well, you should have said so earlier.

I slipped out of the door that Satoru had reluctantly opened. Then I turned around and gave him a meow.

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.