It just so happens that the moggy in question is a good mate of mine: he is a tabby and his name is Láréow. He excitedly told me about his forthcoming appointment the other day. He will be paid in kind, and there will be generous expenses available for him to claim - all from the public purse, of course. He is a formidable mouser, but I don't know how he's likely to fare with some of the fat rats down there. I've heard that those rats work out at the gym every day and take regular baths in the governmental cesspits. I have to admit that I don't envy him; the stink from the Witangemot is bad enough as it is.
Although I get around and find out a great deal of what's going down on the street, I don't have the opportunity to eavesdrop on exalted ruffians like Caedmeron, so I asked Láréow if he would pass me on any useful titbits of information he gleams in the course of his duties. He has kindly agreed to do so. Result!
Watch this space, people. It goes without saying that if I hear anything of interest from Camp Caedmeron, I'll pass it on to you. You have my word. Eat your hearts out, Beeby See and Guardy-Ann!
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