Kitabı oku: «A Friend Called Alfie», sayfa 2

Chapter Three

The week after getting back from Devon, I developed post-holiday blues. Jonathan had to go straight back to work to start his new job. Overnight the relaxed – well for Jonathan anyway – holiday Jonathan was replaced by an even more stressed out one than usual. Claire had to get the children ready to start school again – buying uniforms, shoes and bags and organising clubs; it was a flurry of activity for everyone. But I felt flat, and although I got to see my other humans and cat friends, I still couldn’t quite shake the gloom.

It didn’t help that London was greyer than Devon and I was feeling more than a little bit down in the dumps. I kept telling George that our grief over Tiger would get easier, but it wasn’t feeling that way at the moment. Seeing our cat friends on Edgar Road – Rocky, Elvis, Nellie, and even the sour-faced Salmon – couldn’t cheer me up. My paws felt heavy as I walked, although I knew I needed to snap out of it, I had no idea how. Being a cat wasn’t always as easy as people thought.

I did, thankfully, have a bit of time to myself to try to let out my sadness, which I could only do alone. George was next door with his best friend Hana, a lovely cat who moved here from Japan last year. Hana was about the same age as George, and she was ‘Mikeneko’ which means she had a coat of three colours, in English, we would say Tortoiseshell. She was beautiful and sweet, one of the calmest cats I’d ever met – quite the opposite to my boy. I did wonder if George and Hana were more than friends, after all the boy was growing up. George could act a bit like a teenager when I asked him about Hana – he would shut me down pretty quickly, and say they were just good friends. His reluctance just made me want to know more …

However, they did adore each other regardless of their relationship status, and they saw one another most days. Hana had been a house cat in Japan and didn’t go out, something that both horrified and fascinated me. Since being in London, we had managed to get her out a bit, but she preferred being indoors. It was her choice, and I understood that it took all sorts of cats to make the world go round.

Hana lived next door to us with Sylvie and her teenage daughter Connie. Connie was the girlfriend of my first human child friend, Aleksy, who I had known almost from the first day I arrived at Edgar Road. I couldn’t believe he was a teenager now, my child friends were growing up fast. Aleksy and Connie had a sweet relationship, a lot of hand-holding and blushes. However, they were both clever children, and so I personally thought they were a good match.

Also, Sylvie was now seeing one of our other friends, Marcus, which made her happy. I had to admit she was a bit unstable when she first moved here, and she had me a little worried. She’d been through a horrible divorce, so it was understandable. She was lonely and missing her home in Japan. I knew how hard starting over could be, after all, I had done it. But lately, she smiled a lot. Also, she always gave us fresh fish when we visited which obviously helped. We all met Marcus through his father, Harold, who happens to be one of George’s best human friends. George and I saved his life last year when he was ill, and since then he’s become part of our family.

We know so many people, I know, it’s hard to keep track of them all, but that is what a doorstep cat does, and I’m very good at it if I do say so myself.

Perhaps the reason I was feeling glum was because I was feeling a bit left out. Everyone was in love, or at least it seemed that way, apart from me, who had lost the only two cat women I had ever loved. Snowball, my first love moved away with her family a few years back, and you all know about Tiger. Goodness, I really was feeling sorry for myself.

I didn’t usually wallow in self-indulgence, but today I was letting myself feel my feelings. So I curled up on Jonathan’s favourite cashmere blanket, which I am absolutely not allowed anywhere near, under any circumstances, and had a little therapeutic cat nap.

George woke me, bounding up to me excitedly and then sitting on my tail. He was a little bit clumsy sometimes, my boy.

‘Hey,’ I said, stretching my paws out and yawning.

‘Claire just came home with Toby, Summer, Henry and Martha and said that Polly was coming round in a bit with a surprise for us all.’ His eyes were wide with excitement. ‘I think that includes us, Dad.’

Since Jonathan had secured his big promotion, Claire had given up her part-time job so she could spend more time with the children. Polly worked irregular hours sometimes and Matt was quite busy, so Claire said she was a bit like their part-time nanny. Claire also looked after Harold, George’s old man friend who lived at the end of Edgar Road, Marcus’ father. She did his shopping and dropped in on him regularly making sure he ate a good lunch. Marcus lived with him and took care of him, but he had to work, and of course he also had Sylvie, so Claire helped out there a lot. She loved looking after people – and cats – and she was very good at it. Mind you, I think she learnt a lot of her skills from me.

‘A surprise, you say?’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘Do you think it’s food?’

‘I don’t know, but Claire said that Polly had sworn her to secrecy, the children are excited, and I’m hoping that it might be something for all of us, we should go downstairs so we don’t miss it.’ George hopped around excitedly, catching my tail yet again.

‘Yowl! George, you need to be more careful,’ I gently chastised. I knew he wouldn’t be, he never was. ‘Did you have a nice afternoon?’ I asked, thinking I may get to find out a little more about his feelings for Hana. ‘With Hana,’ I added.

‘Yes, I’ll tell you about it later, but come on, let’s go now otherwise we’ll never find out what this surprise is.

‘What on earth is that?’ George asked as eyes wide we stared at something wriggling in Polly’s arms.

‘I have never seen anything like it,’ I said. It was tiny. Smaller than George had been as a kitten. We all peered in, the thing was a light brown colour, with a dark brown snout and dark brown tips to his ears.

‘It’s a puppy!’ Martha shouted, going to her mum and trying to reach for it. George and I exchanged a glance. Surely not? They wouldn’t … Polly bent down.

‘Yes, it’s a puppy, but he’s very little, so we need to be gentle, and we also need to make sure that we don’t scare him by being too loud.’ The children crowded around.

‘Whose puppy is it?’ Summer asked, suspiciously.

‘Well, Summer, he is going to live with us at our house,’ Polly said. ‘But when I’m at work, he’ll be here with Claire, and with you guys when you get back from school, so in a way, he’s all of ours.’

‘A bit like Alfie and George?’ Toby asked. He was a bright boy.

‘Exactly.’

‘What’s his name?’ Henry asked.

‘We don’t have one yet, love,’ his mum replied. ‘So this afternoon we should all think of a name for him. He’s a pug by the way.’

‘Yay.’ The children all started throwing out suggestions and George and I backed away into the kitchen.

‘Puppy,’ Summer shouted.

‘Nah that’s boring,’ Henry replied.

‘Flower,’ Martha suggested.

‘But he’s a boy,’ Toby pointed out.

‘Spiderman,’ Henry shouted.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Summer replied.

George and I left them to it.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ George asked, sounding horrified.

‘What do you think it is?’ I asked.

‘A dog, they got a dog.’

‘I’m afraid it seems as if they have. Although it’s quite a strange-looking dog. And small, but it’ll probably grow a bit like you did.’ I couldn’t believe Polly would betray us like this. Who on earth got a dog when there were two perfectly good cats around?

‘And they said this dog will be at our house a lot,’ George said. ‘This cannot be happening. It’s the worst thing in the world.’ He put his head in his paws. I have to admit I felt like doing the same, but I had a feeling that this puppy was here to stay, and therefore, I had quite a lot of sorting out to do.

I’ve never been a dog fan, Tiger and I used to tease dogs on leads by getting them to chase us and sit just out of reach so they couldn’t get us – it was just so much fun. Although I have been chased by a dog or two in my time, I have never let one catch me. I always outsmart them. But I digress. The problem is that I think of dogs as being like cats but without the brains, which is why they don’t get to be independent the way we cats are. Perhaps my prejudice wasn’t a good thing to pass onto George. Because by the sounds of it, this puppy was going to be at our house a lot and I knew that we needed to be friends with it, I mean him. We couldn’t be mean, that wasn’t what we did. And the humans seemed to like him, so we had to too. It might not be easy, but we would have to do our best.

‘George, I might not be a fan of dogs, but I have to be honest with you, I haven’t actually spent any quality time with one.’

‘What? Never?’

‘Nope, and I don’t actually personally know any dogs,’ I explained.

‘So why do you say they are all terrible?’ George asked, eyes wide.

‘Um, good question. Sometimes we judge things before we really know them, I may have done that with dogs.’ I was desperate to limit any damage before George traumatised the very tiny dog. ‘I think it’s just a cat and dog thing, we are different from them, and that’s OK. This puppy, he’s a baby, we need to give him a chance.’ I wasn’t sure if I was making any sense, but this was a new side of me. I was being forced to turn my long-held convictions on their head. That wasn’t going to be easy.

‘So you mean this dog might be OK?’ He didn’t sound convinced, but then neither was I.

‘He might be, in fact, I’m sure he will be. Remember how we try to get everyone to be friends, well in this case that includes the puppy dog, I’m afraid.’ I had a feeling I wasn’t doing the best job ever. But this was a new situation for me.

‘Um, so I shouldn’t hiss at him? Or try to scratch him.’

‘No, George.’ Something occurred to me. ‘The thing is that he’s clearly a baby and he’s come to live with Polly and family, the way you came to live with us as a tiny kitten and that was quite frightening in the early days wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, and when Toby came to live with us he was frightened too wasn’t he?’ George had many faults, but he was a very perceptive lad. Toby was adopted by Claire and Jonathan a few years back. Now it seemed as if he had always been here with us, but it had been hard for him at first.

‘This dog might be feeling frightened and we must be superior cats to make sure he’s alright.’ I had always tried to impart that kindness was the most important thing we could do for one another.

‘Alright, Dad, in this case, I will do so but also if he does turn out to be the way you say dogs can be I can’t guarantee that I’ll be nice to him forever.’

‘That sounds reasonable and fair, George,’ I said. I hoped this puppy might prove me wrong about dogs. I’m not sure I felt that optimistic, though. But even I, faced with one of my long-held views, was questioning myself.

Claire came into the kitchen, clutching the puppy to her chest. He was tiny and had quite short legs. Even though I wasn’t sure how big he would grow to be, I desperately hoped he wouldn’t grow too big. Big dogs definitely scared me if they got too close.

‘Alfie, George, come and meet our new friend,’ she said, gently, moving towards us and kneeling down.

George and I exchanged glances as we tentatively moved nearer. I had never seen a dog like this up close before. He was calmer now and, as we peered at him, the little dog put his tongue out and licked his nose. Then he seemed to focus on us, with his big eyes, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Just then he gave a little wag of his short tail which sort of stuck to his bottom.

‘Oh goodness, he already likes you!’ Claire exclaimed. ‘Welcome to the family, and Alfie, George, it’s time for you to formally meet Pickles. The children voted and this name, which was Polly’s idea, actually won.’

Really? Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Pickles? What kind of name was that? Even for a dog.

Chapter Four

It was Monday, our first day alone with Pickles the pug. We’d locked eyes with him a lot, but not one of the children let him out of their sight. They really did seem to adore him, which put George’s nose out of joint a bit. Being usurped by a dog was pretty low.

Claire had given us a bit of a lecture this morning, because Pickles was coming to our house and would be left alone with us while Claire took the children to school. She wasn’t ready to take him on the school run, but said she would be doing so when he was a bit bigger. What this had to do with us, I had no idea, but we listened. Or I did, George was cleaning his paws and sulking.

She went on to share that our new ‘friend’ Pickles was two months old. He was supposed to go to a family, but something happened, and they couldn’t have him at the last minute. Someone Polly worked with asked her if she knew anyone who wanted an adorable pug puppy, and Polly knew Matt had always wanted one. I was still coming to terms with the fact the children had been asking for a puppy (how dare they?), as it would also mean they had a pet who lived with them. I suppose, we visited often but didn’t live there, so Polly and Matt decided we all had a share in a puppy. Hmm.

Not one to keep things succinct, Claire told us that Pickles was allowed outside, because he had been to the vet. Apparently, he’d had the right injections, but he mustn’t go out on his own because he was a dog, not a cat. Not that we needed reminding of that. So, she was asking us to stay in with Pickles until she got back from the school run, rather than go into the garden or for our usual early morning walk. Torture for a doorstep cat. Finally, she finished talking just as the doorbell went and we opened it to find Polly, Henry and Martha stood on our doorstep. Henry was holding Pickles.

Polly rushed off as she was running late, the children all crowded around Pickles in the hallway, fussing him. George looked at me.

‘Is he going to take all the attention off me forever?’ George sounded horrified.

‘Of course not, he’s a novelty right now but what do I always tell you? There’s enough love to go round.’

‘Um, maybe, but I am so much cuter than him.’ George stomped his paw.

‘Of course you are, George.’

George was so used to being the centre of attention, and now there was a new pet on the block. This might not be as straightforward as I thought. Actually, I never thought it would be straightforward, but this was threatening to be more of a nightmare than I imagined.

‘Hello,’ I said, unsure if he would be able to understand me when George, Pickles and I were finally alone.

‘Are you my new friends?’ Pickles asked.

‘Yes, I suppose we are your new friends,’ I replied. He sounded young, and if I was honest, when he looked at me with his big eyes, he was quite adorable. But George was still sulking, I’m not sure he agreed.

‘I’m happy to meet you both,’ Pickles said. ‘It’s scary living with a new family, but everyone seems so nice,’ he mouthed, as he ran around in a circle. Why can’t puppies stay still?

‘What are you doing?’ George asked, scowling in Pickles’ direction.

‘I’m trying to catch my tail,’ Pickles replied.

He might get smarter as he got older, I thought, and tried to convey this to George through my glare.

‘So are you settling in well?’ I asked. It still felt a bit awkward, although it was easier to talk to him now he was no longer running in circles.

‘Yes, I cried a bit last night because I felt lonely. Henry convinced Polly that I could sleep on his bed, so I snuggled up to him, and that wasn’t quite so bad.’

‘You like to talk,’ George pointed out.

‘Be nice,’ I whispered to George.

‘Welcome to Edgar Road,’ George said, not exactly sounding welcoming.

‘And we both arrived here on our own at different points. So you know, if you feel a bit down, you can talk to us,’ I said, more kindly.

‘Thank you, I think I’m going to like it here,’ Pickles said. Then he sat down and smiled at us with his wrinkly face.

‘Dad, can I go out?’ George asked.

‘We’re supposed to be looking after Pickles,’ I pointed out.

‘But I told Hana I’d go and see her this morning.’ Although Hana didn’t go out much, she had a cat flap, so George visited her regularly, as did I sometimes. I didn’t want to force him to stay and help me with Pickles as he’d probably end up resenting me for it, so I thought I’d be best off letting him go. Although, I would have liked to go out …

‘OK, I can take care of Pickles, but you need to get used to him because he’s going to be here a lot,’ I whispered to George, as we moved towards the back door.

‘Fine, and I will be nice, but now I would rather be with my actual friend.’ George sounded a bit surly; he was still a little put out at how the children ignored him as soon as Pickles arrived on the scene. It was jealousy, something that siblings often suffered from. Goodness, get me I was already thinking of him as if he was part of the family, which was very magnanimous of me if I did say so myself.

‘But give Pickles a chance, George, after all he might be a bit like a brother to you now.’

‘Well perhaps, seeing as you are so keen to adopt the puppy, you might tell him not to eat your food,’ George snapped before he disappeared out of the cat flap. I turned to see Pickles, nose deep in my breakfast.

‘Pickles, that food is not for you, it’s for cats,’ I said, trying not to sound angry. I had been saving that, though, so now I’d be hungry later.

‘I thought it tasted a bit funny. Never mind, can we go and play now?’

Oh goodness, I thought, here I was yet again in the role of reluctant parent. Why did this keep happening to me?

I was so pleased to see Claire when she came home that I ran straight into her legs and gave them a welcoming rub. I was also happy to see that she had Sylvie with her.

Pickles had been very busy, exploring the house; he had tried to get into every cupboard, thankfully he didn’t succeed. Finally he found some food that the kids had dropped under the kitchen table, which he ate despite me telling him not to before he ran into a door. He was clearly in the learning stage of life, and only at the very beginning. After he’d eaten, he then ran up and down the kitchen for no apparent reason before jumping into the dog bed that Claire had put in the corner for him.

‘Are you alright?’ I had asked. He was breathing quite heavily and making a snorting, or snuffling noise.

‘I have had so much fun with you this morning, Alfie, but I’m tired now so I might just close my eyes.’ As he had drifted off to sleep, I thought about joining him, I was so exhausted.

‘Oh my goodness he’s so cute,’ Sylvie said, picking him out of his bed and giving him a cuddle. I kind of understood how George felt, as I became invisible.

‘Isn’t he? The kids love him, and Polly is besotted. I think she wanted a third child, but Matt put his foot down, so Pickles has taken that place.’

‘Makes sense. I’ve always been more of a cat person myself, but he is adorable. Look at that little face.’ As Pickles wiggled into Sylvie’s arms, Claire gave me a head scratch.

‘Where’s George?’ she asked me.

‘Meow,’ I replied.

‘He’s at ours,’ Sylvie replied, ‘he came in just before I bumped into you.’

‘Right, shall I put the kettle on?’ Claire said.

‘Please, I’d love a coffee, but then I’m not sure I can bear to pull myself away from Pickles to drink it.’

‘Honestly, everyone adores him. But then we have to make sure Alfie and George don’t feel left out,’ Claire said. Ah, so someone had noticed us after all. I purred with pleasure.

‘Claire, you treat those cats as if they’re your children sometimes.’

‘They are.’ Claire shrugged and I purred in agreement.

‘So how are things with Marcus?’ Claire asked, and I settled down to listen to the latest news.

‘Good, we’re taking it slowly, what with all we’ve both been through, but it’s nice having him live so near, and he’s such a good man. Also, he grounds me, stops me from my you know, my darker thoughts, I guess.’

‘I heard a whisper that Harold thinks you are wonderful,’ Claire said with a laugh.

‘From Harold, that is a huge compliment,’ Sylvie laughed. Harold could be very grumpy but a bit like a chocolate, despite the hard exterior he had a soft centre.

‘And speaking of Harold, I have to go and see him in a bit, shall I take you, Pickles?’ Claire asked.

‘Woof,’ Pickles replied, and I knew that although he had no idea who Harold was, he very much wanted to go and I would be able to have a luxurious rest on my own.