One of the men, wearing a cap with the bear insignia, opens the back door of the automobile. A thickset man climbs out and strides into the building, and through the windows I see him enter the room like he owns it. The people start clapping. He takes a bow, a slippery smile on his face, as if to say that’s only what he expected. The music starts up again, but with a triumphant clash and a bang. And the puppy leaps out of the girl’s arms.

In the next moment, something streaks out the front door and down the steps, into the street. Without thinking, I jump down from the lion and run after the thing. It might go in any direction and get lost in the alleyways of the city. Instead, the huge open street seems to confuse the little creature. It stops, eyes goggling, in the middle of the road. Lights are coming: one of the older automobiles, its front lights close together, sending cross-eyed beams forwards.

I launch myself across the street, grabbing the creature and jumping back onto the pavement. The automobile toots irritably as it swishes past, and the driver shakes his fist at me. No matter, I’ve got it.

It’s warm and panting in my grip. Pointy, tufted ears. The goggly eyes. A thin coat of creamy hair. It’s wearing a tiny silk waistcoat. Little paws, resting on my fingers. Not a puppy after all. A proper grown dog? But one smaller than I’ve ever seen or heard of.

Then the girl in the grey dress comes running towards me and grabs the dog-thing out of my hands and she’s cooing and petting it, even though it doesn’t seem too bothered by all the excitement. Standing there, I might as well be invisible and I’m thinking to slink away, yet something about the proximity of the girl roots me to the spot. I’ve never been so close to a rich Travester girl. Her skin, this close, is fine as porcelain, and her silky blonde hair is giving off a herby smell that makes me want to close my eyes and dream.

“Oh, you silly Min-Min,” she fusses. “What were you doing, running away like that? Did baby get a fright? Did baby not like the big, bad music? There, there, little Min-Min, you’re safe now.”

She seems to remember me at this point. It’s kind of funny, and I’m grinning as she examines me with an uplifted chin and her head on one side. “You’re a Cerel, aren’t you?” Her tone hints at disgust, and she’s frowning at my oversized jacket. Suddenly I’m aware that the jacket is grimy, and my hair sticking out from under the cap is greasy. I step back, thinking I probably stink as well. A wash of shame makes me blush.