Beck is really getting on my nerves. Why did he even come along if he’s going to think everything is silly? If Beck were a hunting dog, his owner would have shot him for defeatism. On the other hand, the jogger really is going to be here any second. And no, I have no great plan. I feverishly ponder my options.

When the jogger is about to pass us by altogether, I decide on the spur of the moment to throw myself right in front of his feet with a heartrending howl. It surely looks as though I’m in terrible pain and in urgent need of help. Let’s see if the gentleman is an animal lover and takes care of me. We can find out about the prince stuff later.

Two seconds later, I’m no longer so sure that my idea was such a good one. The man tries to get round me, and he stumbles and falls on his face right in front of Mr Beck. He stays on the ground briefly, then he struggles to his feet, shakes himself off, and rubs his right arm. Once he’s up and running again, he comes towards me, looks me over – and yells, ‘Why don’t you watch where you jump, you stupid fucking mutt?!’

OK, so he’s quite clearly not a gentleman in the strict sense of the term. He lifts his right leg to give me a kick, but Beck and I run away and hide behind the nearest bush. Oh no! What a disaster! Beck doesn’t say anything at first. Once we’ve caught our breath, he shakes his head slowly.

‘What kind of a manoeuvre was that? That had zero chance of success.’

‘At least I did something. You just stand around here moaning the whole time!’ I reply to defend my unconventional approach in my quest for a master.

‘Ha! That was nothing but chasing your tail! I wonder what you would have done if the guy had nabbed you, or if he had landed on top of you. Then you’d be as flat as a pancake now. This is getting ridiculous; I’m going.’

I hang my head. There is some truth in what Beck is saying. I hadn’t thought this whole thing would be so hard. When Nina talked about looking for a prince in the park, it sounded so simple. Damn.

I suppose I look very down in the dumps, because Beck nudges me in the side and tries to sound comforting.

‘Come on, now – it’s not the end of the world just because it didn’t work on the first day. You’re underestimating the effect of rain on humans. Most of them don’t like it much and prefer to stay at home. Take a look at them – not a trace of desire to be active. Apart from the occasional jogger, humans do just fine lying around on a couch for days. That would be too boring even for a cat like me! But you’ll see: as soon as the sun comes out again, this park will be jam-packed. Then we’ll casually stroll from bench to bench and pick out the best candidates, and you can try out your “I’m a poor sick dachshund” number again. That wasn’t half bad.’