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of televisions in different sizes. I sat down in front of a big one that made me look like an enormous fluffy tiger on Linda’s
shoulder.
    ‘The baby was discovered by this woman, Linda Evans, who was walking her dog.’ Now the picture was of a reporter lady sitting on a red sofa.
    Then I sat up even straighter. There was the tiny baby, Rocky, in the arms of a nurse. He’d got a little white hat on and a blanket wrapped round him, but I could see the mole on his cheek
and the glint of astonishment in his turquoise eyes. It was definitely him. My baby. My Rocky.
    I went up to the screen, to touch noses with him, patted it and jumped back, not liking the crackle of static through my fur. I couldn’t stop looking at Rocky and wherever I looked, he was
there on every screen, and people were walking past the shop, ignoring him.
    ‘We are hoping his mother will come forward,’ the nurse was saying. ‘She may need medical help, and Rocky needs his mum. He’s a dear little chap.’
    Then they showed me – again! – and the policeman who’d tried to hold me, and he was saying, ‘If anyone sees this cat or knows where it lives, please get in touch with us.
There could be a connection.’
    I knew who Rocky’s mother was. TammyLee. How could a cat give that information? But even if I’d been able to talk, I wouldn’t have told. It was a secret I shared only with
TammyLee. We had been drawn to each other, I had felt her sadness, and she had called me ‘magic puss cat’. TammyLee and I were soul mates.
    I had to find her. The time had come for me to grow up, stop playing, and work. I’d search to the ends of the earth for TammyLee.
    But just as I was making this momentous decision, a man’s voice shouted, ‘THAT’S THE CAT!’ An agile young man, who’d spotted me watching myself on TV bounded to the
shop doors and slammed them shut.
    And I was a prisoner. Again.

Chapter Four
A HOT CAR
    I searched the shop for an escape route, but there wasn’t one.
    ‘You stand there, Dave,’ the manager called to his mate.
    Both wore smart white shirts, like tuxedo cats, black trousers and shiny shoes. Obviously, they weren’t used to cats, it made me nervous, but my angel’s voice rang in my aura,
keeping me calm and still. Self-control was something I needed to work on. It was hard. My instinct was buzzing like a bee, telling me to run wild in the shop and not be caught.
    ‘Get it some milk from the back, Kyle,’ said Dave. ‘Shut it in the kitchen and we’ll call the cops. Bit of free publicity, eh?’
    There was no way out. A quick look around the walls and ceiling told me that. So I had to be pragmatic and trust these two young men, Dave and Kyle. I could see that Kyle had a fiery
intelligence as he warily approached me, so I was polite, standing up and putting my tail up. A silent meow and eye contact had him transfixed in seconds. Gingerly, he picked me up, and airlifted
me into the kitchen, kicking the door shut.
    ‘Got him!’ he shouted. ‘You can open the shop now, Dave.’
    Why did everyone think I was male?
    Kyle stood with his back to the kitchen door, brushing my fluff from his black trousers and watching me lapping the milk he had given me. I’d hardly got room for it after my
street-café breakfast. I was fine until the police turned up with a cat cage. Then I panicked in the small kitchen and squeezed myself behind the fridge.
    ‘Come on, darling. It’s all right. We’re only going to scan you and take you home. Come on, my lovely.’
    I didn’t like it behind the fridge, so eventually, the policewoman’s honeyed tones coaxed me out and into the cage where she’d hidden some cat treats and, hey, a catnip mouse.
She kept talking to me kindly.
    Bad memories of being a tiny kitten in one of those cages haunted me, so I kept still and quiet as I was carried into a police car and driven away with the blue light flashing. I thought about
the friends I had made. The couple who had fed me at