An old pointer moves aside when I settle down next to him. At least he’s not going to be the next one to bully me. We sit side by side for a while without saying anything. Then he sidles up to me and whispers in my ear, ‘You’re better off not starting a fight with those two. They’re really dangerous. But if you stay away from them, they usually leave you alone.’

Stay away from them? You’ve got to be joking. This cage is pretty small, and we’re six dogs in here.

It seems that the pointer also just realized that that’s out of the question; in any case, he grins at me with a twinkle in his eye and murmurs, ‘Hah! Well, do the best you can. By the way, my name is Fritz.’

I don’t say anything at first. Things being what they are around here, I don’t have much interest in chatting. Instead I lay my head on my paws and watch Bozo and the boxer lounging on my little patch of sun. They’re probably making fun of me right now. I actually really like being a dachshund, but at this moment I would much rather be an attack dog. Staffordshire bull terrier, pit bull, or some other breed that screams out licence to kill.

‘Hey.’ Fritz pokes me in the side. ‘Don’t be sad. The woman in charge here just told you that you’re the type humans go for; somebody’ll get you out of here soon. And then you’ll give those two idiots over there the finger, since it’s a sure thing that no one will want them.’

I look at Fritz and think about what he’s saying. I hope he’s right.

•

The next morning I feel knocked out. I hardly got any sleep last night, and when I finally drifted off for five minutes, I had terrible nightmares, about boxers and pit bulls chasing me through the cage, and about huge quantities of horrid-tasting tinned food. I wearily make my way over to Fritz, who’s standing at the cage door wagging his tail.

‘Morning. How come you’re so wide awake and in such a great mood?’ I ask him.

‘Well, today’s visiting day. And if someone comes along in search of a dog, I want to make a good first impression. I’m not as young as I once was, so it’s more important than ever to seem active and cheerful. You’ll see; humans go for that sort of thing.’

Could he be right? I don’t really feel like playing the dachshund who performs on command, but I admit that the thought of settling in here for the long haul is horrifying, so I position myself next to Fritz and start wagging my tail back and forth a little halfheartedly. Do humans actually fall for a cheap trick like this? Unbelievable.