The truth about cats and dogs is that, while they can get along together just fine, people tend to gravitate towards one or the other. My husband and I grew up with cats, read books about cats not dogs, and wound up devoted to dogs. (The exception being Philippa Pearce's heart-wrenching novel, A Dog So Small, and I'll be reviewing her last book, Finder's Magic, next week.)

Dogs still get pretty short shrift in children's literature. There's Spy Dog, Brind and the Dogs of War, Joshua Doder's Grk and Tintin's Snowy, but not nearly enough about their wholehearted devotion to us

ingrates. Cats on the other hand have libraries devoted to them, and two of the latest will do nothing to stop the remorseless veneration of what is, frankly, the only creature more self-centred than an author.

At least Camembert, assistant to the mysterious Madame Pamplemousse, is properly aloof. His mistress runs a small shop in Paris filled with delicious but faintly sinister delicacies, such as Giant Squid Tentacle in Jasmine-Scented Jelly and Minotaur salami. Fastidiously epicurean, Madame is “by no means famous” in the city of gastronomes, making enough to get by and avoiding the machinations of loathsome restaurateurs such as Monsieur Lard.

We have all encountered M. Lard with increasing freque-ncy while on holiday in France - that fat, rip-off bully who serves up disgusting, overpriced food and makes our children sob with hunger and misery; in fact, this enchanting debut is just the thing to pack next time you're tempted to dine out there these days.

Where Paul Gallico, who wrote such beautiful stories and novels about France and cats, could descant confidently upon the glories of its restaurants, Kingfisher's novel is among other things a far more

accurate satire on its present-day cuisine than, say, Pixar's Ratatouille (and just as filmable). For here, too, is a small person (Lard's niece, Made-leine) who can really cook with all her heart and isn't

allowed to, and here is a restaurant critic whose reviews hold sway over le tout Paris. When Madeleine is guided by the cat to buy a small jar of divinely different Sea Serpent pâté from Madame Pamplemousse, it's the start of a tangled web in which she will get bullied into spying on her new emp-loyer to obtain a recipe whose flavour depends on what you yourself bring to cooking.

Witty, warm-hearted and as delectable as one of the dishes it describes, this is as much a hymn to the culinary arts as to the magic of kindness, and is recommended for 6-9s.

Michael Morpurgo has written many splendid novels about cats, and this tale, told by a bell-boy at the Savoy Hotel, is a gem, with lovely

illustrations by Michael Foreman. When the orphaned Johnny gets talking to Countess Kandinsky, he also meets Kaspar - “the prince of cats”. It's a love that will result in our hero risking his life, because when the countess dies, boy and cat stow away on the Titanic in search of a new life in New York.

What is so enjoyable about this book is its richness and its feeling for character. Johnny is a wholly believable creation and his reactions, daydreams, dilemmas and heroism are just the ticket for readers of 7+.

Inspired by Morpurgo's stay at the Savoy as a writer-in-residence, it almost makes me forgive the former Children's Laureate for not writing, once again, about a dog.

Madame Pamplemousse and Her Incredible Edibles by Rupert Kingfisher
Bloomsbury, £6.99 Buy the book

Kaspar Prince of Cats by Michael Morpurgo
HarperCollins, £12.99 Buy the book

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