O
n a warm June day, the artist Basil Basset was working in his studio, finishing a pawtrait of a young dog of extraordinary personal beauty. ‘It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done,’ said Lord Henry Wooffon languidly from the divan where he lay. ‘You must certainly exhibit it next year.’ ‘I will never display it,’ the artist snuffled seriously. ‘I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.’
6
B
asil told Henry about the night he met the subject of the painting – Mr Dorian Greyhound. He was at a party, and their eyes met. Basil puffed, ‘I knew that I had come snout-tosnout with someone so fascinating that he could absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself.’ Basil had seen Dorian every day since that night, and had produced the best work of his life. ‘So why won’t you exhibit his pawtrait?’ asked Lord Henry. ‘Because my heart shall be put under the world’s microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing!’
8
M
y family, the Cattaways, have been well-to-do felines in the Middle West for generations. But after the Great War I became restless, and I came East – permanently, I thought – in the spring of twenty-two. Across the bay from the less fashionable West Fish, Long Island, where I lived, the white palaces of East Fish glittered along the water. The history of that fateful summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have din-dins with the wealthy Buchattens. Daisy was my beautiful second cousin, and I’d known Tomcat in college. Really, I scarcely knew them at all.
6
W
hen I arrived at their elaborate mansion, Tomcat was waiting on the front porch, wearing riding clothes that did not hide the enormous ginger power of his cruel body. ‘I’ve got a nice place here,’ he meowed gruffly on my approach. Inside, two females (one of whom had an unfamiliar scent) were stretched out on a divan. As I came in, Daisy laughed charmingly and reached for my paw. ‘Nick Cattaway! I’m paralysed with happiness!’ she cried. She introduced me to Miss Jordan Baker, who yawned and appraised me.
8
I
t was Michaelmas, but that wasn’t the only cause for celebration at Longbone. The eligible bachelor Mr Bingley had just moved to the grand Netherfield Bark estate in town, and it was all anyone could yap about.
6
E
lizabeth read the letter, and found her feelings for Darcy changing. ‘How despicably have I acted!’ she howled in shame. ‘Till this moment, I never knew myself.’
34
‘D
earest Elizabeth’, Darcy dribbled tenderly. ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you!’ ‘I am the happiest creature in the world!’ she snuffled in reply.
58
First four books in the series 21/09/17 B-FORMAT HARDBACK • EXTENT 60 PP • £7.99
HB: 9781472249777 Ebook: 9781472249784
HB: 9781472250285 Ebook: 978147225029X
HB: 9781472250346 Ebook: 9781472250354
Full set of POS available:
Shelfbarkers 9781472251947
A2 Poster 9781472251879
Bookmarks pack of 25 9781472251886
16-copy Counterpack 9781472251862
24-copy FSDU 9781472251893
HB: 9781472250315 Ebook: 9781472250311