A strong odour wafts over to me – it’s a mixture of sweat and…and…yes, that’s what it is: the stuff that Caroline drank on that horrible night. Awful memories well up in me, and I would like nothing better than to call off the whole business. But out of the corner of my eye I see that Mr Beck is sitting only a couple of feet from us, off to the right, and watching me like a hawk. He seems to be tickled pink. If he thinks I’m giving up now, he’s sadly mistaken. I’m seeing this through to the end – woof!

I thrash back and forth a little more, and try to bring even more drama into my act by rolling my eyes and twitching my nose.

‘Man, you poor thing, you’re in really bad shape! Come on, Willi will pick you up.’

As he says this, the man, Willi, gently grasps me under the chin and stomach with his big hands and carefully lifts me onto his lap. I stop thrashing; I don’t want to fall down and really hurt myself. The man rubs my belly, which is actually quite pleasant, except for the fact that he smells even more strongly like that stuff Caroline had to drink. Yuck – that must be something awfully bad. I hope the man doesn’t start to vomit; if he does, I’m certainly in a very vulnerable position.

‘Well, little chap, you’re not trembling any more. So you’re all better, aren’t you? But what is Willi going to do with you now?’

That’s a very good question – and it’s exactly the right point for Beck to jump in. I hope he’s not asleep at the wheel, and has come up with some way of luring the man to Caroline, even though I’m now utterly convinced that he is neither a prince nor any other kind of acceptable candidate. Come on, Beck, where are you?

‘Well, what do you know, there’s another little friend! Where are you all coming from at once?’

So telepathy among us four-legged creatures really does work. I quickly roll over onto my belly and watch Beck sweep around Willi’s legs. Now he jumps onto the bench and plops down right next to us.

‘Meow, meowwww, meowwwww!’

OK; cats can’t howl to save their lives, or I guess I should say that they can’t howl at all. Beck sounds like one of the violins that Caroline works on every day. Or even worse. I wonder what he’s trying to accomplish.

‘Oh dear, I guess you’re not doing so well either. What’s going on here today? Are you both sick, or did you two get lost?’

Willi pets Beck’s head with one hand and looks at him pensively. Even if he’s not a prince, he’s certainly a nice guy. Maybe that’s all we need. Beck puts a paw on Willi’s arm and tugs at him a little.

‘Ouch!’