A Friend Called Alfie

by Rachel Wells

  ‘Are you alright?’ she asked, panic lacing her voice.

  ‘Meow.’ My voice shook, but by some miracle I was. I was fine. As was Pickles. My impulsive behaviour had turned out OK. Thank goodness. I felt relieved, even if I was a bit shaken up.

  Our front gate sprang open, and Claire appeared.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ she shouted.

  ‘The puppy ran into the road, and the cat seemed to throw itself in front of it,’ the lady explained, she was shaking but holding onto me tight. ‘I wasn’t going fast so thankfully I could stop in time, but I was practically touching him.’ The driver burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how he got out. Pickles you do not go out without me. How many times do I have to tell you?’ Claire had tears in her eyes now. ‘Alfie, are you OK?’

  ‘Meow.’ I was almost fine.

  ‘Alfie, you shouldn’t have let Pickles come out, what were you thinking?’ Sorry, sorry, are you alright?’ She turned to the woman.

  ‘Just a bit shaken up but I’m so relieved no one got hurt.’

  Claire took us and the quivering lady into the house and sat her down in the kitchen. Claire made her a cup of tea, to help her calm down. Pickles, finally noticing he was in trouble, crawled straight into his bed.

  George and I sat down, trying to calm ourselves. We were all trying to calm ourselves actually.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ the lady, who told Claire she was called Sally, said. ‘A cat throwing itself into the road to save the dog! I mean I know humans do that but cats?’ She was genuinely confused.

  ‘I’m guessing you’ve never met a cat like Alfie before,’ Claire replied.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was the end of a very stressful week. After the incident with the car, Claire told me off quite a lot. George also told me off for risking myself when he needed me. I know he had a point, but I tried to explain that I knew what I was doing and if I had been hit it would have been only a gentle bump. In reality, I knew nothing of the sort, and I felt guilty for putting him through it. I should have thought first and acted second. The trouble was that it was instinct rather than a thought out move, and because of that, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t do it again if faced with the same situation.

  George and I both tried to hammer home to Pickles the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘Pickles, can’t you see how bad it was?’ George said exasperated.

  ‘Not sure,’ Pickles replied.

  ‘Listen to me,’ I said, with my best stern parent voice. ‘You could have been badly hurt, Pickles, and I could have been badly hurt. The point is that it was very bad, and you simply cannot do it again.’

  ‘Alright, I think I get it, you are basically saying I shouldn’t go into the road on my own?’

  ‘We’re saying you never go into a road on your own but also you shouldn’t go out on your own,’ I reiterated for what felt like the millionth time.

  ‘I think I’ve got it, but you know I can’t be sure,’ Pickles replied. George stomped off, I despaired and Pickles licked his nose. He was never going to get it.

  In hindsight I should have taken Pickles home, got Claire’s attention and then gone to see George. But I was so keen for him to know Harold was alright, I made a mistake. I hold my paws up to it, I really do. No cat is perfect, after all.

  And Claire was more cross with herself, but it was hard with everything going on. She was taking care of the house, the children, Pickles and also visiting Harold every day. What with Jonathan not coming home until late at night, she was on her own a lot. So I took the lectures with good grace as I knew what she was going through.

  Harold’s illness had definitely disrupted our calm almost more than Pickles. Marcus was worried, in fact, it was unclear who was the most upset, him or George. However, Marcus could go and see Harold, whereas George was getting increasingly annoyed about the fact that he couldn’t. It turned out that Harold would be in hospital for quite a while longer by the sounds of things. They weren’t going to operate but they had to try different medication and that could take some time to get right. There were lots of technical terms being bandied about, but I’m a cat, so I had no idea what most of it meant. The adults kept reassuring us (and themselves it seemed) that it was all going to be fine, and they all went to visit him, reporting back. I, in turn, tried to reassure George.

  The good news was that Harold was complaining about the food, about the company – a bunch of ill old men he called them, and the nurses who were incompetent, and the doctors even worse. He seemed to think they were trying to kill him. Jonathan said it was a good sign, the fact he was well enough to moan suggested he was recovering. Despite my attempts at reassurance, George still fretted – he loved Harold.

  ‘I miss Harold,’ George said to me as we ate our breakfast. ‘I feel as if it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him and he’s one of my best friends.’

  ‘I know, but the important thing is that he’s doing well. How about I take you out today to cheer you up. We could go and see Dustbin?’ I watched George’s mind whirring as he thought about my offer. He was tempted, I could see, but he was also still a little angry with me about the car incident. ‘No Pickles, I promise,’ I added, the pilchard on the cake.

  ‘OK, it’s been ages since I saw Dustbin,’ he said. ‘But you have to guarantee that the dog does not follow us.’

  ‘Great, you might get to meet Ally as well. So, George, let’s go now before Polly arrives with Pickles. That way, there is no way he can try to follow us.’

  ‘Good thinking, Dad. And it’ll be nice, just the two of us again. I love it when it’s the two of us.’

  ‘Aye, son, I’ve missed that.’ I felt quite emotional, as we headed out.

  It was a clear day, cold but dry, as we headed towards the restaurant. I hoped we might get to see Franceska too, with the whole Pickles arrival I had been at home far more than usual and hadn’t been out to see anyone as much. And although she had been to ours, since Harold having gone into hospital, I missed her. The adults had drawn up a roster of visiting Harold. Marcus went every evening, and in the afternoon when he could juggle work, Sylvie joined him in the evenings, taking Connie sometimes. Claire would go in the afternoon before the school run. Franceska would take over from her, while she went to get the children. Jonathan, Matt, Tomasz and Polly would all pop in after work just to show their faces.

  Harold said he had the most visitors out of everyone, according to Claire. He was proud of this fact. Everyone wanted him to know he was loved, so although not everyone visited him every day, they visited a fair bit. Which only served to annoy George even more, as he felt he was the only one who didn’t get to see Harold. Apart from the children and me. They didn’t go because Claire said it would be too disruptive to the other patients, goodness, imagine if George or Pickles were allowed to visit in that case!

  We set off. I did feel a little guilty about abandoning Pickles, but I had done a fair bit of puppy-sitting lately, and I seemed to get told off for every little thing he did wrong. Not only for the car business, but also when he dug up some flowers in Claire’s garden, chewed one of Toby’s trainers, buried one of Summer’s dolls in the garden, ate something he shouldn’t. The list went on, and I felt a little bit offended that it was all my fault. After all, puppy sitting was much harder than even I imagined. Harder even than when George was a kitten if my memory serves. I think I had earned an hour or two off. In reality, I’d probably earned a two week holiday, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘You know I do like Pickles a bit,’ George said magnanimously. ‘But I also miss it being just us.’

  ‘I do too, things change so much, don’t they, maybe we should make sure we make time for each other,’ I suggested.

  ‘Yes, but I better warn you,’ George said as we trod the familiar path to Dustbin, ‘I am going to be very busy soon because I am close to finding my job.’

  I raise
d my whiskers in surprise. ‘Really? What is it?’

  ‘Oh that I don’t exactly know, but you have to trust me when I say that I am going to be very good at it.’

  ‘I do trust you.’ I really didn’t. I worried about him, especially when I had no idea what he was going to be doing. Although to be fair, I wasn’t sure he did either.

  ‘Good, because you need to be able to give me some space to follow my dreams.’

  ‘Eh?’I was confused, and had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘You’re welcome, son.’

  Thankfully our difficult conversation came to an end as we reached the restaurant.

  We bumped into Franceska and Tomasz, as we padded through to the back of the restaurant.

  ‘Ah, we haven’t seen you here for a long time,’ Tomasz said, fussing us both as he usually did.

  ‘Alfie, George, I will get you some treats,’ Franceska said. I rubbed against her legs in thanks.

  ‘I have to go now, but it was nice to see you,’ Tomasz said, before he took off, swinging his car keys. We waited by the back door of the restaurant for Franceska to bring out some sardines which we both enjoyed very much. After polishing them off, we made our way to the bins to find our friend.

  ‘Hello, what a nice surprise,’ Dustbin said. I had to say I needed a bit of a double take. He looked a bit different. His fur was neater and shinier, and he was smiling in a way I hadn’t seen before. Ally appeared from behind him. Ah, now that made sense. He was making more of an effort with his appearance now he was in love. That was sweet.

  ‘Oh it’s like a girl Dustbin,’ George said before he could stop himself. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean … Well, I did mean … I mean …’

  ‘I think George was going to say that you and Dustbin are obviously similar in some ways, your job mainly, but he didn’t mean any offence by it,’ I explained.

  ‘None taken. Nice to meet you, George, I’ve heard all about you. And Alfie, lovely to see you again.’

  ‘Wow, it’s really nice to meet you too,’ George said. ‘Are you as good at hunting as Dustbin?’

  ‘I am,’ Ally said.

  ‘She really is,’ Dustbin added proudly.

  ‘Show me, show me!’ George begged. George bounded after Ally, I hoped his career wouldn’t take him in the direction of her and Dustbin, I didn’t really have the stomach for that, but then I knew I would have to support him if that was what he decided.

  ‘I heard them talking about Harold, how’s the lad coping?’ Dustbin asked when we were alone.

  ‘It’s hard for him, you know, but Harold is on the mend. He just seems to be so upset that he can’t visit him.’

  ‘Of course, after everything he’s been through … but even I know cats aren’t allowed in hospitals, so he’s just going to have to be patient – excuse the pun – poor thing.’

  ‘You know George isn’t known for his patience, Dustbin. Anyway, how are you and Ally?’

  ‘Yeah, good. I like her.’

  For Dustbin, a cat of few words, and certainly fewer emotional outbursts, this was like a huge admission.

  ‘Then I’m happy for you.’ I grinned. ‘They say love makes the world go round after all.’

  ‘Stop with all that soppy stuff,’ he grumbled, but I could see that he was smiling underneath it all. We had a lovely time in the yard. After Ally finished showing George her hunting skills, we all found a rare sunny patch to sit in and have a catch-up. As winter had officially announced its arrival we knew we were lucky to find it.

  ‘I just want to be able to find my purpose in life,’ George reiterated.

  ‘Not catching rodents then?’ Ally asked.

  ‘No, I don’t feel that it’s best suited to my aptitude,’ George said. I had no idea where he was getting this from, but I guessed it was Aleksy and Connie. ‘You see, in order to find my cat calling I need to get the sense it’s one hundred per cent right for me.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Dustbin said, humouring him. ‘And to start with, what do you think your best skill is?’

  I watched George as he thought about it, whiskers raised, seriously. He looked about him, and then at me.

  ‘I think my best skill is making people happy,’ he said. Well, he did do that, that was true.

  ‘In that case, you need to find a job where you make people happy,’ Ally said.

  ‘But what job involves that?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s what we need to find out,’ Dustbin said.

  ‘No, I know it.’ George suddenly sprang up. ‘I know it. Thanks, Dustbin, Ally, you’ve really helped.’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, being caught up in his excitement but also confused.

  ‘I can’t tell you that it’ll take a bit of working out, but trust me, I think I have finally found my purpose in life.’

  Should I be worried that he wouldn’t share it with me? Probably, but I would just have to wait and see. And hope that it was nothing that could get him into trouble. What was I even saying? Of course, it would be something which got him into trouble. And probably get me into trouble too.

  As soon as we slid through the cat flap, Pickles appeared and waddled up to us. In the few weeks he’d been here, he had got a bit bigger. Or wider, although he still could get through the cat flap, but I wasn’t sure he would be able to for much longer. That might make life easier.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Pickles demanded.

  ‘Urgent cat business,’ George replied, self-importantly. I glared at him.

  ‘Pickles, we needed to go out and see some friends of ours, but we tried to be as quick as we could,’ I said trying to placate him.

  ‘But I wanted to come,’ he whined.

  ‘You can’t go everywhere with us,’ I said gently. ‘Remember what happened yesterday?’

  ‘No,’ he replied.

  ‘You nearly got run over, and you nearly got Dad run over. It’s dangerous out there, especially with your lack of road sense,’ George huffed. He sounded angry, but this didn’t seem to resonate with Pickles.

  ‘Why?’ he asked. Oh goodness, I remembered the why phase with George, it was an endless round of ‘why?’ questions and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through it again.

  ‘Because,’ George said, ‘you are not a cat.’

  ‘But you said if I did what you told me then I would be able to be a cat,’ Pickles said. I tried not to put my head in my paws and weep.

  ‘Yes, but it takes a very long time to be like me, years in fact,’ George continued.

  ‘George, shush,’ I commanded, having to step in here. ‘Pickles, you are very lucky to have George to teach you how to be a cat. But, there are some things you can’t do, because of your own safety and one of those things is going out without a human.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘When you go out, you have to have a lead on, well when you’re not in the garden, right?’ I explained.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘George and I don’t have leads on, cats don’t and before you say why you need to know it’s the fundamental difference between dogs and cats. Now, you can come and play with us in the garden, but when we go out, if we go out, you can’t come with us.’

  ‘It’s not fair,’ Pickles reiterated.

  ‘Life isn’t always fair,’ George said, sounding wise. ‘But, Pickles, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, but it’s dangerous out there, beyond the garden gate, you need to remember that.’

  I gave George a surprised look, I was surprised but pleased at how nice he was being.

  ‘OK, but will you play with me now?’ he asked.

  ‘Dad will, I have to go out,’ George said, and before I could question him about it, he was gone, and I was left with the puppy yet again.

  I led Pickles to the garden, after a bit of a wiggle through the cat flap. I was tired after my morning’s exertions, and I would have liked to have a quick cat nap, but it wasn’t to be, as I had a puppy to entertain. We found some balls, which
Pickles buried and then dug up. I tried not to look as he made a little bit of a mess of the garden. I’d probably be in trouble again, but I didn’t have the energy to prevent it. I lay down and tried to watch Pickles, but I found it hard to keep my eyes open, and at some point, I must have dropped off.

  ‘What on earth? Pickles, Alfie.’ Claire’s voice, which was full of anger, yet again, woke me and I jumped up. Pickles was sat at Claire’s feet, looking very innocent. I stretched and went over.

  ‘What have you done?’ Claire shouted, again, pointing at the flowerbeds, which I had to admit were a bit of a mess. Of course, it was my fault, I should have been watching him, as I looked at the flowers, which Claire loved too much, scattered all over the lawn. Oh god, I was supposed to be the responsible adult here.

  ‘Meow,’ I apologised and hung my head. I felt a little bit guilty, but I was still also tired.

  ‘Pickles, you have to stop digging up my flowers.’ Claire picked him up, turned and glared at me. ‘And, Alfie, you should have stopped him from doing so.’ She took him inside. As the door closed behind them I thought about following them, but then I lay down again, thinking I also could just snatch another forty winks. It would beat being told off again, after all, I’d been told off enough lately.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Do I have to go?’ Jonathan asked as he took off his tie and jacket and tried to sit down on the sofa. Claire tried to stop him from sitting down and she didn’t look best pleased.

  ‘Jonathan, I know you’re tired, but we haven’t spent any time together this week, and I’ve been looking forward to this,’ Claire snapped. ‘Besides, Polly is coming to babysit for us, and it would be embarrassing to tell her that date night is off because my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me.’ I felt bad for her; Claire was wearing a lovely dress, she had spent quite a lot of time on her hair, and was wearing make-up. She’d been so excited as she tucked the children up in bed, and then gone to get ready. I went over to Jonathan and gave his leg a gentle scratch.