Both Catvinkle and Ula were so absorbed in Catvinkle’s dancing that they didn’t hear the sound of Mr Sabatini’s footsteps getting closer and closer until suddenly the half-closed door burst open.

Catvinkle was so surprised when the door hit her in the tail that she jumped up high in the air. Mr Sabatini stood in the doorway, expecting to see both Catvinkle and his new friend, Ula, but he saw only Ula.

‘Where is Catvinkle?’ Mr Sabatini asked. But before Ula could try to say anything, he added, ‘Oh, she must have gone out. I just wanted to see that you hadn’t run out of water. I’ll come back later. I have to give Anja and Ferdi their haircuts. They’re visiting with their aunt. I’ve finished doing her hair, and now it’s the children’s turn. I’ll come back and check in on you later.’

And with that he left. Ula trotted around to look behind the door. She thought she’d seen something quite extraordinary when Catvinkle had leapt into the air. She looked up towards the ceiling and there was Catvinkle, high up in the air, hovering in one spot. Ula could hardly believe her eyes. Catvinkle had her front paws tucked in under her, the bottom paws dangling like the legs of a human, and her tail was going round and round, with the bow at the tip of her tail spinning.

‘What are you doing up there?’

‘I got a fright,’ said Catvinkle, ‘and I jumped.’

‘But how do you get so high? And how do you manage to stay there?’

‘That’s secret number three,’ said Catvinkle, who felt as though she had been caught and forced to give up what was perhaps her most important secret. ‘I can fly,’ she said, trying to make it sound like the most normal thing in the world for a cat to say.

Ula was so surprised to see Catvinkle hovering above her that she dropped to her tummy on the floor, arching her back and stretching out her front paws so that she made the shape of the letter ‘U’.

‘You can fly?!’ she exclaimed.

‘But I can’t stay up forever,’ said the flying Catvinkle.

Catvinkle’s fluffy tail was spinning very fast, faster and faster, round and round like a merry-go-round that was out of control. The red bow on Catvinkle’s tail spun like the propeller on a helicopter, blowing air around the room. Ula could not believe her eyes.

‘I get tired if I do this for long. In fact, I’m getting tired now,’ said Catvinkle. ‘Oh no! I think I’m going to f-a-a-all.’

And with that, Catvinkle fell right on top of Ula and her face came to rest buried in Ula’s fur.

Ula didn’t know what to think. On the one paw, it was a shock to have someone suddenly fall on your back, especially if that someone was a cat.

On another paw, it felt quite good to have something nice and warm to take the chill off your fur, a bit like a blanket, a furry one that was breathing.

There were still two more paws to consider. On the one back paw, it felt like a massage or at least a very good pat to have the claws of the out-of-breath cat kneading on top of Ula’s back so as not to fall off and onto the floor.

With one last paw to consider how she felt to have this cat fall from the ceiling on top of her, Ula realised it was scary to think that the cat might complain about the smell of wet dog, just like the humans in the hotels had complained.

‘What’s that smell?’ Catvinkle asked.

‘Oh no, you’re probably going to say I smell wet and that you hate the smell of wet dog,’ said Ula. ‘Go ahead, you might as well. Everybody says it.’

‘No, not at all! It’s all … musky. It’s like a beautiful musky … mmm! I feel so calm and relaxed breathing in this musky smell.’

Catvinkle buried her nose into Ula’s fur. ‘I love this smell! It’s the best smell I’ve ever smelled. Is that how you always smell?’

‘I think so,’ said Ula. ‘I’m not really sure because to me I don’t smell like anything.’

Catvinkle had smelled some good smells in her time – the hyacinths in Vondelpark, the herring at Friend’s Herring Shop on the first day of herring season, sour milk that’s been left in the sun and, of course, old socks – but this unexpected musky dog smell was a life-changing smell. She never would have imagined that she would sit calmly and happily on the back of a dog. But here she was on the back of a dog and she didn’t want to move.

‘Oh no, you do have a smell. And it’s wonderful.’ Catvinkle balanced herself so she was sitting right in the centre of Ula’s back. She had been warned about dogs all her life. The cats she knew said terrible things about dogs. But if a dog could smell that good, how bad could they be? This dog didn’t seem so bad at all.

‘I think we should get to know each other even more than we already do. You and your musk have to stay right here!’ said Catvinkle.

Catvinkle was still lying on top of Ula, breathing in the musky scent from her coat of fur when Ula asked if she would mind if she had a drink from Catvinkle’s water bowl.

‘What’s that, dear musky-smelling dog? Did you say something? Some water? Yes, of course. You must consider my water bowl your water bowl,’ said the blissed-out cat.

‘Thank you, that’s most kind of you,’ said Ula.

She made her way awkwardly over to the water bowl with Catvinkle on her back. Usually she walked quite quickly with a happy little side-to-side swing. But this was careful, slow and steady, with Ula not wanting Catvinkle to think she was trying to tip her off. It was more the way an elephant would walk, a very old one.

‘I wonder if I could ask you for two other things without you thinking me rude,’ said Ula.

‘Ask away, my musky canine friend.’

‘Well, first, would you mind terribly taking a break from lying on my back?’

‘Of course, Wet. Do you mind if I call you “Wet”?’

‘Actually, I would prefer Ula.’

‘Certainly, Ulee. Anything you say,’ Catvinkle said, still in an almost dream-like state.

‘And the other thing I was going to ask …’ Ula hesitated.

‘Anything, anything, if you’ll promise to go on smelling like that,’ said Catvinkle.

‘But I don’t know how I’m doing it,’ explained Ula.

‘No, neither do I, but don’t go changing anything. Have you ever heard the expression “a leopard can’t change its spots”?’ Catvinkle asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Can a Dalmatian change her spots?’ asked Catvinkle.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ replied Ula.

‘Fascinating, fascinating. I’ve always found Dalmatians to be one of the most fascinating and least objectionable dogs ever to come into my mind and sit there for a while.’

‘You’re really too kind,’ said Ula. ‘But would you like to hear the other thing I was going to ask you?’

‘What? Oh yes, do go on, Ulee. What’s the other thing?’

‘Well,’ said Ula, ‘I’m so hungry. Do you think I could have something to eat?’

‘Yes, of course. Where are my manners?’ Catvinkle asked herself, still lying comfortably stretched out atop Ula’s back.

‘Under your basket?’ Ula suggested.

‘Follow me, Ulee. We’ll go into the salon where Mr Sabatini is doing the children’s hair. I know how to remind him to feed us. I tend not to actually speak to him with words. Perhaps I will one day, but the shock of my talking could cause him to faint and I wouldn’t want that. I’m much too small to catch him if he fell – although I could soften his fall, I suppose. Anyway, not a word to anyone about my secrets. Okay?’

‘You mean the baby-shoe dancing and the flying?’

‘Yes, or the fact that I really only have two secrets.’