Catvinkle was in shock. One moment earlier she had been peacefully napping by the fire in her own room. Now, suddenly, there was a spotted dog standing by the door, and Mr Sabatini had gone upstairs.

A dog!

Ula, for her part, was very uncomfortable being in a cat’s room. And not the room of just any cat. This cat had a beautiful white shiny coat of fur, impressive thick white whiskers, slinky paws and a big red bow tied around her tail. Ula wasn’t looking to make trouble.

‘Hello, Catvinkle. My name is Ula, although many people call me “Wet Ula”.’

Catvinkle didn’t say anything. Instead she just stared at Ula from her wicker basket. Was she asleep and still dreaming? She dipped her paw into her water bowl and trickled a little water onto her face. Yes, she was definitely awake, and yes, there was really a dog in her room. A dog!

‘Oo-la?’ asked the still sleepy cat.

‘No, it’s U-la, like You-la, rhymes with school-la or ruler,’ said Ula.

‘Wouldn’t that be You-ler?’ asked Catvinkle.

‘No, not in my case. Anyway, sadly, I often get called Wet Ula,’ said the spotty dog.

‘Did you say Wet Ula?’

‘Yes,’ said Ula.

‘Why are you called that?’ Catvinkle asked.

She was shocked to be having a conversation with a dog and in her own room. This was horrible. She couldn’t believe that Mr Sabatini, who was such a kind man, had brought a dog in here. Perhaps this Ula creature wasn’t really a dog. Perhaps she just looked like a dog.

‘Do you mean why am I called Wet or why am I called Ula?’ Ula was trying to be polite to the suspicious cat.

‘Let’s start with Wet. Are you wet?’ asked Catvinkle.

‘Not right now, not as far as I can tell. But sometimes when I’m cold I can’t tell if I’m also wet. I’m a bit cold now but I’m sure that lovely warm fire will warm me up in no time. Does that ever happen to you, that when you’re cold you think you might also be wet?’

‘Well,’ said Catvinkle, stretching, ‘as you can see, I have a lovely warm fire in my very own room.’ She scratched her neck casually with a rear paw as she continued. ‘A fire in my very own room in this house where I live with Mr Sabatini. So I’m not cold very often.’

‘I see,’ said Ula.

Ula slid her right front paw very quietly and slowly towards the fire, closely followed by her left front paw.

‘So you’re never so cold that you think you might also be wet?’ she asked Catvinkle.

‘Sometimes I am,’ said Catvinkle, ‘when I’m in the sky.’

‘In the sky?’ said Ula with great surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Never mind what I mean,’ said Catvinkle, a little snippily.

Ula was worried that Catvinkle might notice her attempts to creep closer to the fire, but she was so chilly that she had to take the chance.

‘Cough,’ she said and, as she did, she raised her tummy off the ground and inched herself just that tiny bit closer to the fire. ‘Cough, cough.’ She inched her tummy forward again.

‘You’re not sick, are you?’ Catvinkle asked, more out of suspicion than friendly concern.

‘Er, no,’ said Ula.

‘You haven’t explained why you’re called Wet Ula, or why you’re trying to use up my fire to dry off or why you’re in my room. You haven’t explained anything,’ said the frustrated Catvinkle, who still could not believe she had woken to find a dog in her otherwise perfect room.

‘I didn’t mean to use up your fire. Aren’t you getting the same warmth from the fire that you got before I came in? I didn’t realise fires couldn’t be shared. Do you want me to explain why I’m called “Wet” Ula?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Catvinkle. ‘But before you try to explain anything else or use up any more of the warmth from my fire, the fire in my room in my house, the one I share with my dear friend Mr Sabatini, whom I’ve known for a very long time and didn’t just meet this morning –’

‘Yes, what is it?’ asked Ula.

‘Well,’ said Catvinkle, ‘I really do think you need to clear up one thing first, because I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming. You look to me a lot like – well, there’s no other way of putting this – a dog. Wet or not, are you … a dog?’

‘Yes, I’m a Dalmatian. We’re all dogs, us Dalmatians.’

‘Did you tell Mr Sabatini that you’re a dog?’ asked the bewildered Catvinkle.

‘I didn’t have to tell him. He knew I was a dog. Just look at me.’

‘But … he likes cats,’ Catvinkle said. ‘How do you know he knew you were a dog?’

‘Well, he let me rub my nose against his leg and he patted me,’ Ula answered.

‘I rub my nose against his leg and I get pats from him,’ Catvinkle protested. ‘Do I look like a dog to you?’

‘No, you look like a cat to me – and a most elegant one, if I might say,’ said Ula diplomatically.

‘Well, I am a cat, a most elegant cat, and yes, you can say that if you feel you want to.’

‘Maybe Mr Sabatini likes to pat dogs as well as cats?’ Ula suggested.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Catvinkle dismissively. ‘Never before have I seen him pat a dog, no one has ever told me that they have seen him pat a dog, and then one morning I’m rudely awakened from a beautiful snuggy nap by a wet dog!’

‘Oh, I’m not actually wet, remember?’ said Ula in an attempt to make Catvinkle feel better.

‘But didn’t you say your name was Wet Something-or-other?’ asked Catvinkle.

‘Wet Ula, yes. But my parents named me Ula. The “Wet” part I’ve sort of picked up along the way,’ Ula said sadly.

‘Picked up along the way? What does that mean?’ asked Catvinkle, more confused than ever.