At the third bench, we finally strike it lucky: a young man has sat down there to tie his shoelaces. I can’t tell what colour his eyes are, but we didn’t want to take them into account on our first go anyway. Mr Beck and I creep closer, then we get the show on the road.

Or should I say, we would like to get the show on the road. Before I can even really get going, a young woman suddenly makes a beeline for the bench and bends down to the man and kisses him. I struggle back to my feet, give myself a little shake, and sit down next to Beck.

‘Damn, he already has a woman.’

Beck giggles. ‘But we could ask her whether the guy is a good kisser. That was one of your newly discovered criteria.’

‘Ha-ha! Very funny.’

I’m a bit disappointed because I found the man very appealing for my dachshund taste. The last thing I need is snide remarks from an overweight cat.

‘How about you pick out the next man?’ I suggest, and I sound more miffed than I wanted to let on.

‘I’d love to, my dear, I’d love to. I’ve already sighted one – take a look over there!’

He heads along the grass for a bit, then stops in front of a bench next to a flowerbed. OK, I have to admit that the guy doesn’t look too shabby. He’s reading the newspaper, which would seem to be a sign that he’s reasonably well educated, and also makes it possible for us to lie down right in front of his feet without being noticed. So once again I roll onto my back and begin to yelp my heart out.

After a while, the man looks up from his newspaper and watches me carefully. Or at least I think so, because of course I can’t see him very well from my vantage point. It seems to me, though, that the man is not showing the least bit of sympathy towards my impersonation of a deathly ill dog. Damn! It worked straight away with Willi. I’m now writhing right in front of his feet and howling as pitifully as I can. All the howling and panting has even made some foam form around my fangs. Despite this, the man just gives me a bored look and moves his feet slightly to the side, then stands up, turns round and walks away. I’m speechless. This can’t be happening! Beck comes trotting up to me.

‘Hey, what was that? Did he just take off? And left you to your sad fate? Unbelievable how heartless these humans can be!’

We gaze after the man, who is now standing still and looking back at us. Is he feeling bad about walking away? He’s rummaging around in his pocket. Maybe some pork sausage? No – he’s taking out his mobile phone and starting to make a call. I sneak up a bit closer to him, because something tells me that it’s going to be about me.