Alfie in the Snow

by Rachel Wells

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was the day of the memorial for Tiger. This was a day for her. There are not many areas where humans trump cats, but the memorial idea was one of them. I still didn’t know much about it, but thankfully our television expert, Elvis, filled us in. Normally people wore black, sang songs and said a few words about the person they were saying goodbye to. We had adapted this to our lives and limitations, so we weren’t going to wear black, obviously, but I had instructed everyone to look their best and we were going to each say something about Tiger, before we did a cats’ chorus of goodbyes to her – our version of singing. I hoped it would help George with his grief; I didn’t dare hope it would help me with mine.

  But it gave me something to focus on, as we invited cats from our road, even Salmon who Tiger really wasn’t fond of, but I knew that she would have liked having him there. Dustbin was coming as well; Tiger had become part of his life too, and he wanted to say goodbye. George had spoken to Hana about it and she’d told him about something in Japan where humans went to the temples – whatever they were – and left something as a prayer or an offering. George and I didn’t quite grasp that but George was going to take his favourite toy mouse and leave it as something to keep Tiger safe which was very moving. Of course Hana couldn’t come with us, which was sad but there was no way to get her out of the house, even if she had wanted to.

  George was quite upset about that and I assured him that as soon as I could I would come up with a plan to get her out or him in. I could see how much he needed a friend and although he had us, she was really just his, and more his age. And also I remember Tiger telling me never to give up on my plans. I almost smiled as I could hear her telling me to never stop with my mad schemes – not that I thought they were mad, of course. And I wouldn’t. Not that I could anyway. They were part of me.

  But I thought that if I could find a way to get George and Hana together, it would help him. I wasn’t matchmaking, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t sure whether George liked her in that way, or she him, and goodness knows relationships among the young could be difficult, but I was determined that their friendship would be a priority for me. He needed her, I knew that. And of course, with everything going on in her house, she also needed him.

  George and I had a thorough grooming before he took the toy mouse in his mouth and we set off for the recreation ground and Tiger’s memorial. I could feel the sadness in the way we both walked, slowly, reluctantly almost, and I knew that wasn’t going away any time soon. The grief we felt was inside us but also visible in the way we moved, and how we looked. There was no hiding from it. George dropped his toy a number of times but I didn’t get irritated, I stayed calm. This wasn’t easy for any of us, after all. When we eventually reached the recreation spot, I was moved to see that there was a good turn-out. As well as Nellie, Elvis, Rocky, Tinkerbell and Salmon, Dustbin was there, looking smarter than normal, and some of the other cats from Edgar Road we usually didn’t see much as they were normally nocturnal. Tiger would have been pleased, I thought. I hoped she could see us all. I hoped she knew how many cats had turned out just for her.

  Elvis, self-appointed expert on memorials, took the lead.

  ‘We are gathered here today to remember a very special cat,’ he said. Already I could barely hold it together. I glanced over at George who was staring very intently at the toy mouse. I stood as close to him as he would allow, but I wasn’t sure it made any difference. ‘Tiger was a feisty cat. She didn’t go looking for trouble but she never shied away from a fight if she was protecting her friends and family. I remember the first time I met her, she was having an argument with Tom, and I tried to intervene but she told me that she could more than handle him, and she did. So much so that her and Tom ended up very good friends.’ He paused and raised his whiskers.

  I shivered. That was so Tiger. Tom had been a cantankerous cat who lived on our street and when I’d first moved here he really didn’t like me. He wasn’t that pleasant but Tiger sorted him out and they’d ended up very close. No one quite knew why and when I asked her she just shrugged it off and then he moved away with his owner. We had no idea where he was now, or even if he was still alive. Maybe they could both be in heaven arguing together now. I grinned at the thought.

  ‘We all loved Tiger, we are all going to miss her, none more so than Alfie and young George, here. But it’s only fitting that we remember the good things about Tiger, because there were so many of them, as we sadly say goodbye.’

  Elvis was pretty good at this, I thought. He sounded as if he had done this before. He called each cat up in turn to speak about Tiger, recounting their favourite story, or memory. As I felt the love that everyone had for her, it warmed my heart. She would be so missed, but only those that were loved can be missed, I had to remember that. Soon, it was George’s turn. I nuzzled him.

  ‘Are you alright to do this?’ I asked, full of concern.

  ‘I need to do it for her,’ he replied and my heart swelled with pride.

  ‘Tiger mum was my mum,’ George started. I swear there wasn’t a dry whisker in the area. ‘And she was a good mum. She loved me, she protected me. She let me climb trees when my dad didn’t, and she took me on adventures. I think she was probably the best mum a cat could have, and I didn’t want to say goodbye but my dad said we had to, and sometimes in life we had to do what we didn’t want to do, so there was no choice, and I knew he was right. But I didn’t want to lose my Tiger mum, and I just hope she knows how much I loved her, how important she was to me and how I will never stop missing her.’

  ‘Oh George,’ I said. ‘That was beautiful.’ He nodded, solemnly, and laid down the toy mouse for his mum. Nellie rubbed her eyes with her paws. No one had failed to be moved by George as they all told him how well he’d done.

  And then all eyes were on me. I took a breath. I needed to do justice to Tiger, but also I had to do this for George and I guess for me too.

  ‘So much has already been said about Tiger,’ I began. ‘And it’s been so heart-warming to hear how much she was loved. She was funny, feisty, yes, definitely, and loyal. Tiger was my first real friend on Edgar Road. I remember how I made her come for walks with me when she didn’t want to – she was lazy and spoilt back then – but she soon found her adventurous side, and to be honest, soon became far more adventurous than me. She stood by me, even when she didn’t always want to, she was the dearest, kindest cat ever, and to say I’ll miss her will be a huge understatement. She was always there with a kind word, or a joke to cheer me, she would tell me off when I was behaving badly, or being annoying. She saved me on a number of occasions and, without her by my side, I feel as if I am half the cat I was before. But I know she will always be by my side, if not literally, and when I carry on with life, which at the moment feels impossible – but I know I will – I will remember her always. Tiger, no one wants to say goodbye to you but wherever you are be happy and know how very loved you are, and how loved you will always be.’

  I stopped, exhausted, to find myself flanked by Dustbin on one side and George on the other. I let their warmth comfort me, as the other cats all began their cats’ chorus in honour of Tiger. By the way, cats’ chorus is probably not the best way to describe the horrible noise that came out of them, but it was well meant. We cats have never been known for melodic singing. But I hoped that it would bring a smile to Tiger’s lips wherever she was and I looked up to the sky, raising my whiskers to the heavens and saying a silent goodbye. Yet again.

  No one wanted to rush off, so we spent a pleasant afternoon in the cold, all huddled up to keep warm, lots of the older cats doing their best to cheer George up. Everyone was being kind to each other; even Salmon was upset and he never got emotional.

  ‘Bad times, bad times, Alfie,’ he repeated. I knew for him that was a lot. So as we shivered and nuzzled and basked in the glow of friendship that was around, I found some sort of peace. Sad, yes, but also it was good to see how much Tiger meant to everyone and
to feel how much we all meant to each other. I knew that the coming days, months, years even, would be hard for us, George and I especially, but today, there was comfort of sorts and I took a mental picture so I could conjure it up whenever I needed to.

  ‘George,’ I said, gently. My fractured relationship with my son was still a little bit of a see-saw. One minute he was glad of my company, my love, the next he rejected it. I knew this was what I would have to bear for now, until he was ready to talk, or for our relationship to go back to how it was. No, that wasn’t right, it would never fully go back to how it was, I knew that. It would always be different now, without Tiger, but I would wait until he was ready for us to move on to our next phase and hopefully that wouldn’t take too long.

  ‘Yes?’ he replied.

  ‘Would you like to go home? Warm up? Take a nap?’ I knew I was fussing but then that was what parents did and I was now a single parent. That thought struck me so hard that it almost winded me. I was going to be doing this on my own from now on.

  ‘No, I have to go,’ he stated.

  ‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Dad,’ he sighed. ‘I need to be alone, just give me some space.’ It wasn’t a request and he said goodbye to the other cats and started walking in the opposite direction of our house. I knew he was probably going to his ‘jungle’ and the old man and I had to let him, but I also felt I needed to find out more about what he did there. I had only seen the one time when the man seemed angry, and I resolved that I would talk to him about it, later, I would get him to tell me exactly what he was up to there, after all that was what any responsible parent would do. Like it or not, I might be grieving, broken-hearted, exhausted, but first and foremost I was a parent and I needed to parent more than ever now.

  However, my grief needed an outlet too, and so that night when everyone was asleep I went outside, and I yowled with all my might at the bottom of the garden, my cries being carried off in the wind.

  I was about to go home, when I remembered Sylvie. I had organised another gift for her via Lucky again. After all, this plan was for Sylvie, for Connie and for Aleksy, as well as the friendship that I was trying to rescue and also in memory of Tiger.

  The bird was waiting where I’d been told it would be – my new best friend was really proving helpful. As I picked it up and made my way to Sylvie’s doorstep again, I nearly dropped it a couple of times, not least as I squeezed under the gate, but I made it. She would definitely know how much she was cared about now.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I was failing as a father and as a cat. My feelings of grief weighed heavily on me and I was finding it hard to muster any energy. I had always tried to put my feelings after those of others, but I couldn’t do that as easily as normal right now. I was struggling with the day-to-day functions. Eating, with little appetite. Going out, knowing I would have to walk past Tiger’s house, which was physically painful. Trying to talk to George who still had no real interest in talking to me.

  The humans were being very considerate to us. They were sure that we were sad because of Tiger – we were – and so they were being extra nurturing. Toby and Henry were still at loggerheads – things had worsened when Henry had laughed at the play rehearsal when Emma Roper wouldn’t let go of Toby’s hand and Toby was angrier than ever about being Joseph – but I couldn’t worry about that. Nor could I fret too much when Franceska came round to say how upset Aleksy still was, throwing himself into earning money so he could buy Connie a nice present, and how her mum was still unmovable. Apparently Connie had even asked her father to intervene, which he had, via Skype, but Sylvie said that he’d given up being a parent when he left them for another woman and it just made things worse. George was still visiting Hana, but he was so closed off that he didn’t seem to want to talk to me about that either.

  I did manage to ascertain that the bird gift hadn’t gone down very well. What was wrong with these humans? This time, according to Hana, Sylvie had accused Aleksy of doing it to punish her. Of course Aleksy never would but the idea that he was being blamed for my brilliant plan was devastating. I had to think like a human and not a cat. Despite being wrapped in grief, I needed to put this right, because so far my plan was making things worse.

  I lay in my bed, in our empty house, and I talked to Tiger. I told her about the gifts and I could picture her there in my head. Her stripy fur, the way she would square up to any other cat, dog or anyone for those she loved. I knew that she would be sad about the way George and I were at the moment and I could hear her telling me that we needed each other more than ever, so to go and do something about it. It was startling how clear her voice was, how loud, how forceful. And I hadn’t always done what Tiger told me to when she was alive, but I was going to now. Even if it was only a lone voice in my head. I needed to listen, I needed guidance. Sometimes when you felt at your worst, you had to pull through rather than give into it. Tiger was dead, that was the most horrible thing to recognise, but I wasn’t, and I needed to keep living, but more important than that I had to show my kitten how to keep living.

  With a slightly renewed sense of energy, I got up, stretched fully – I had been in bed longer than normal so felt very scrunched up – and cleaned myself up ready to leave the house. I walked past the living room where the Christmas tree lights were off, due to no one being home, and I thought about the festive period. It was a time for love, and goodwill to all men – and cats – so I needed to rally myself and my troops and make sure that I did Tiger proud by making this Christmas a good one. It wouldn’t be the best, it couldn’t be without her by my side, but it would be as good as it could be. And I was the cat to make sure of it.

  Feeling amazingly confident and armed with my new purpose, I went to find George. He might not have wanted to talk to me but I would show him that he needed to. I made my way to the end of the street, it was drizzly, cold, and miserable but I kept going. I ignored the damp feeling in my fur, the ache in my legs, the pain in my heart, and I heard Tiger’s voice egging me on every step of the way.

  I got to the house and scanned the front garden for George. There was no immediate sign but then the garden really was an overgrown mess. I spotted George beneath a browning bush and I approached him. I wasn’t going to pretend any more.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, raising his whiskers angrily at me.

  ‘George, you know you are entitled to spend time on your own, and I’m not going to stop that, but I am your father, and I’m entitled to check that you’re safe if I feel I need to.’ I was stern.

  ‘As you can see, I am.’ He shuffled around so he had his back to me.

  ‘George, I miss Tiger every second of the day, and I know you do too, but we’ve still got each other. We’re lucky to have that so it’s important you don’t push me away.’

  ‘But—’ he started.

  ‘No, no buts. I’m here for you, I love you and you have to know that. You can be angry, you can be sad, you can be whatever you need to be, but you can’t push away the people who love you, because that, George, isn’t going to help at all.’

  ‘I don’t mean to push you away,’ he said, his voice small.

  ‘Then why do you?’ I asked, kindly.

  ‘Because I’m scared. I didn’t know that you could get pain like this and what happens if I lose you too?’ He looked at me, his words coated in sadness, his eyes spilling over with fear. My heart, which was already in pieces, shattered a bit more. ‘I know you said you wouldn’t go for a long time but then with Tiger mum, she didn’t know, so that could happen to you.’

  ‘I can’t promise I’ll always be here, George, I wish I could. But, we have been through this, you’ve got me for a very long time. I’m incredibly healthy, and I’m not going anywhere right now.’ I was actually and on the whole took very good care of myself, I ate well, I exercised and I even ensured I drank plenty of water. ‘And I’m younger than Tiger was. I’ll take care of myself and do whatever I can to st
ick around for as long as I can, but you know what this whole death thing teaches us?’

  ‘No,’ he stated. I wasn’t sure either, but I ploughed on regardless.

  ‘It teaches us to make the most of living our lives. Make the most of our families, our friends, our fellow cats and our humans. If anything does happen to me – not that it will – you have Claire, Jonathan, Polly, Matt, Franceska, Tomasz and the kids, not to mention all the cats who were here for Tiger earlier. We are the lucky ones, George, and although it might not feel like it right now, it might never feel like it, try to remember that. Live your life to the full, that is what Tiger would have wanted. And also don’t push away those who love you. She would have told you that too.’

  George stood up; he appeared to be thinking. I hoped, prayed I had got through to him.

  ‘You’re right, Dad, and I know it but the sad feeling is so strong.’

  ‘I know, son.’

  ‘But I will try and I’ll talk to you more about how I feel. Is that a deal?’

  ‘Yes, and not only will I listen but I will help you, that’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘Oh, come and meet my friend,’ George said, animatedly, and I saw the glint of the kitten I used to know. He sprang up and ran up to the windowsill. I reluctantly followed him. He sat on the windowsill and I saw the old man sitting in a chair. It was dark in the house, and as soon as he spotted George, the man tried to pull himself out of the chair, which seemed to take an age; he didn’t look in good shape. He finally hauled himself up and started waving his fist.

  ‘Get lost,’ he shouted. ‘Get lost, I tell you.’ His words flew through the window pane.

  ‘George, he doesn’t sound very friendly,’ I pointed out.

  ‘What do you mean?’ George waved a paw at the man, who shook his fist again. ‘We’re waving, look.’