By now, Catvinkle and Ula had almost reached Vondelpark, where the cats and kittens of Amsterdam would meet to let their fur down as part of a club called Kittens Anonymous. This was where the National Kitten Baby-Shoe Dancing Competition was to take place. It wouldn’t be long before they were inside Vondelpark. Ula noticed that the closer they got to Vondelpark the more nervous Catvinkle was becoming.

They were walking beside the canal trying not to get in the way of the bicycles the humans were always riding. It wasn’t easy. Some of the humans weren’t very good riders and some of them were good riders but weren’t paying enough attention to the cats and dogs in the street. Typical, thought Catvinkle, always focused on themselves, these humans.

She remembered that Mr Sabatini wasn’t like that and she wished he was with them now. If he was standing near her, the humans on their bikes would find it easy to see him and would ride around them. Maybe it was hard for fast-moving humans on their bikes to see a little cat and a dog, Catvinkle thought to herself.

But Mr Sabatini was back at the salon making people’s hair look nice. And the waves of humans on their bikes swirling around them on the bumpy cobblestone streets weren’t helping Catvinkle’s nerves one bit.

‘Let’s stop and rest for a moment, Catvinkle,’ said Ula. ‘Hey, look up there! They’re so pretty, aren’t they?’

Ula used her nose to point upwards to three rose-ringed parakeets, each with bright green feathers, pink stripes around their necks, and red beaks. They were having a rest in the branches of the elm trees on their way back to Vondelpark, which was, of course, just where Catvinkle and Ula were headed.

Catvinkle agreed they were pretty but, being a cat, it was hard for her not to think of them as food. So unless Ula wanted Catvinkle to climb up the tree to try to catch one or more of the rose-ringed parakeets, it was perhaps not the best distraction for a cat.

‘I really shouldn’t eat so close to the baby-shoe dancing competition,’ said Catvinkle, looking away quite quickly.

Luckily there was another distraction. Everyone, including the humans on their bikes, turned to look at the bicycle fisherman who was coming along the canal in his boat. Wearing an orange suit from top to toe, he was fishing from his boat with the help of a mechanical arm. The arm skimmed the bottom of the canal whenever he pulled a special lever at the bow of the boat. But he wasn’t trying to catch fish. He wasn’t trying to catch any seafood at all. He was trying to catch bikes. Every time he put the boat’s mechanical arm in the water, it came up from the bottom a bit sludgy and holding one, two, three or even four bicycles that had somehow come to rest on the bottom of the canal.

‘I’ve never understood why the humans let their bicycles get so wet,’ said Ula, still trying to calm Catvinkle’s nerves with distractions. ‘Rain is one thing. I know the humans sometimes ride their bikes in the rain – and I’m not one to talk about wet fur. But surely this is going too far. Maybe they’re trying to teach the bikes to swim? Can’t they see that will never work? I’m no expert, but I blame the wheels.’

Ula turned to Catvinkle but she was still looking nervous, so she went on. ‘Oh well, whatever they’re thinking, it sure is a beautiful day for bicycle fishing, don’t you think?’

But now they had reached the part of Vondelpark the cats called Kittens Anonymous, and there was no distracting Catvinkle from the trouble ahead.

‘I probably should have mentioned this earlier,’ said Catvinkle, ‘but since you’re the one pretending to be Ketzington, who’s a cat, you should probably be quite nervous too.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Ula, ‘but it makes perfect sense. In fact, just your saying it has helped me to feel nervous quite quickly.’

‘Yes, I think it’s appropriate,’ said Catvinkle to her new best friend.

Ula noticed that there were cats and kittens all around them, heading to the same place. Suddenly, she had the feeling that a handful of stones had been placed in her tummy and had sunk to the bottom like bikes in a canal.

A flock of rose-ringed parakeets landed on a branch of a nearby elm tree. They were high enough from the ground not to have yet come to the attention of any of the cats or kittens. But, sensing the tension in the air even quite high up off the ground, they sat beside each other quietly in a row waiting to see what was going to happen next.

‘Hey, look, everyone,’ called out a very nasty voice. ‘It’s last year’s loser, Catvinkle, and she’s brought a dog!’

‘That’s Twinkiepaws!’ Catvinkle whispered to Ula. ‘Quick, pretend to be a cat who’s disguised as a dog!’

All the cats turned to look. They saw Catvinkle with Ula who, being a dog, looked very much like a dog. They gasped.

‘Gasp!’

‘All right, everyone,’ said Catvinkle in a louder voice. ‘Now that you’ve gasped, you can all relax because this isn’t a dog. It’s a very famous cat disguised as a dog because she’s on holiday and doesn’t wish to be disturbed by a bunch of nosy kittens.’

‘Sure looks like a dog to me!’ said Twinkiepaws, strutting around as though she had already won this year’s baby-shoe dancing competition and possibly next year’s too.

Ula concentrated on Twinkiepaws for the first time. No taller than Catvinkle, Twinkiepaws was a little moving bag of muscles completely covered by cream fur. Her tail was the most eye-catching part of her. It was all primped and fluffy, extending wider than the widest part of her body, her tummy, and fanning out behind her almost like a peacock’s tail, only instead of feathers there was fur. It was clear to Ula that Twinkiepaws was going to be a formidable opponent.

Catvinkle spoke in a haughty tone. ‘You’re going to choke on your own fur, Twinkiepaws, when you realise who it is you’re calling a dog.’

‘Who is it?’

‘We can’t tell you because then you’d know, and you’re just the kind of cat this very famous New York singing sensation doesn’t want to be bothered by,’ said Catvinkle.

Twinkiepaws walked slowly around Ula. All the other cats were watching.

‘Who are you?’ she said.

‘Don’t be so rude, Twinkiepaws!’ said Catvinkle.

Ula sat very still on the cool grass and remained silent.

‘She can’t tell you but I’m warning you, Twinkiepaws, you wouldn’t want to be mean to a world-famous kitten singing sensation like Ketzington … Oops! I told you who she is! I’m so sorry, Ketzington,’ said Catvinkle to Ula, who was pretending to be Ketzington.

All the cats there at Kittens Anonymous gasped in shock. ‘Gasp!’

All of them except Twinkiepaws.

‘Catvinkle, I don’t know what you think you’re doing bringing a dog here, but this is not the wonderful Ketzington. This is a Dalmatian. You’re crazy to bring a dog here, Catvinkle. We’ve come here for the National Kitten Baby-Shoe Dancing Competition, not to see what the cat dragged in.’

‘You’ll be sorry for treating our special visitor so rudely,’ said Catvinkle.

There was much murmuring and muttering among the assembled cats and kittens. Some cats thought Ula might actually be Ketzington in disguise. Some cats thought she was definitely just a dog. Others weren’t sure.

‘Catvinkle’s right,’ said a wise old cat named Schrodinger. ‘It’s not wise to be so rude to someone who might turn out to be Ketzington.’

He strolled over to join them. ‘Let’s look at what we know. We know that Ketzington and the Snufflecats are due in Amsterdam at any moment. We would all agree it makes sense that a cat as famous as Ketzington would want to travel around in disguise so she wouldn’t be constantly bothered for paw prints. And it makes sense that a successful singing star like Ketzington would be able to afford the best disguise any kitten could want. Of course, because we’re cats, we’re unlikely to bother a dog. So a famous cat wanting to be an anonymous kitten could indeed come to Kittens Anonymous dressed as a dog.’

Schrodinger stroked his whiskers with one paw thoughtfully. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I’ve always thought that a cat we can’t see can be both a live cat and not a live cat. And “not a live cat” could mean a live dog.’

‘You really lost me with that last bit. Are we even meant to understand that?’ asked Twinkiepaws.

‘What you understand, Twinkiepaws, is entirely a matter for you,’ said Schrodinger. He was so wise that very few of the cats who gathered there knew what he meant, but he was used to this and spent many of his happiest hours having long conversations largely with himself.

‘Oh, Schrodinger!’ cried Twinkiepaws. ‘You’re not going to fall for this. Catvinkle is trying to trick all of us.’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Catvinkle.

‘Yes, you are!’ said Twinkiepaws.

‘No, I’m not,’ said Catvinkle.

‘Yes, you are!’ said Twinkiepaws.

‘Kittens, please! Will we be any the wiser if you both just keep on saying the same thing?’ asked Schrodinger.

‘Not sure. Let’s see,’ said Catvinkle as Ula sat there quietly and very, very nervously. ‘No, I’m not tricking.’

‘Yes, you are!’ said Twinkiepaws.

‘No, I’m not,’ said Catvinkle.

‘Yes, you are!’ said Twinkiepaws.

‘Kittens, stop this!’ said Schrodinger forcefully.

‘Well, you were right, Schrodinger. It was fun but we’re no wiser,’ said Catvinkle.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Twinkiepaws. ‘I’ll prove to you that this is not only not Ketzington, it’s not a kitten at all. It’s a dog!’ And with that she jumped up in the air and landed hard on Ula’s tail.

‘Oww, oww!’ howled Ula, in a voice that was so much like that of a dog that it seemed that Catvinkle’s and Ula’s attempt to convince everyone that they were looking at a famous cat disguised cleverly as a dog was not going to work.