A Friend Called Alfie

It was a bad night for us all. George barely slept, he padded from Toby’s room to my bed and back again a number of times. Marcus phoned late last night when he got back from the hospital to say that Harold was comfortable and that the doctors didn’t feel that there was any immediate danger. It was more a case of keeping him calm, regulating his heart, while they got to the bottom of things. All we could do was stay calm and keep our paws crossed, although poor George kept worrying and as he kept waking me, I hoped they found out what was wrong with him sooner rather than later. Otherwise, none of us were going to get any sleep. I also tried to reassure him, but as George pointed out, I wasn’t a doctor, so my words didn’t soothe him.

All the adults discussed the situation at length and were all saying how the next few days would be chaotic, but of course, we were used to chaos. From what I could tell, until they had the test results, all my humans would be on edge, as well as us. Most importantly, they wanted to protect the children until they knew the situation, which I couldn’t do with George as he knew too much. The younger ones didn’t really understand, so my focus was to keep Pickles out of trouble and support George.

That morning, as Claire took the children off to school, Pickles was once again in our care. George wanted, and needed, to go to Hana’s so I was on puppy-sitting duty. Even though I didn’t exactly have the energy, I wondered if it would be safe to try to play hide and seek again. I just had to hope he didn’t get stuck in a cereal packet again. Thankfully George had shown him the best (safest) hiding places, under Summer’s bed was the best, which Pickles seemed to like, and there was no danger involved. For now, while everyone worried about Harold, I helped out by taking care of Pickles.

‘Alfie, can I have something to eat?’ Pickles asked. Now I was a cat who liked their food, pilchards especially, but this puppy wanted to eat all the time. His stomach was bottomless, and he did have a rather large bottom.

‘Pickles, you’ve had your breakfast so there’s nothing until lunchtime,’ I told him, sounding like a parent. ‘You need to do something other than eat.’ I tried to be stern, but when he looked at me with those big, hopeful eyes, it was difficult not to melt and give him all the food in the house. Until he licked my ear, which I really didn’t like.

‘Can I have some of your food?’ he asked, wiggling his bottom hopefully.

‘You don’t like it, and besides, George and I ate all our breakfast today,’ I said. Ever since Pickles entered our lives, we had quickly learnt not to leave food in our bowls.

‘Right, so are you saying that I can’t have anything to eat?’ This puppy really did labour the point.

‘Let’s go to the garden,’ I suggested thinking it might get rid of some of his energy. We headed out the cat flap. The wind whipped through our fur the moment we stepped outside.

‘It’s chilly,’ Pickles said, shivering.

‘Shall we play hide and seek?’ I suggested.

‘Oh yes please, yes please.’

‘Great, you hide, and I’ll count to twenty.’

‘No, Alfie, twenty isn’t enough time for me to hide, count to five.’

Bless, he still hadn’t got the hang of numbers. I did wonder if he’d get smarter as he got older, but George didn’t think he would. I was still optimistic, that was the kind of cat I was. I decided to just turn my back while he hid, after all in the garden there weren’t many places. Within a matter of seconds, I turned around and felt a quick flutter of panic when I couldn’t see him anywhere. I moved down the small lawn towards the shed, which looked as if it was shut so he couldn’t be in there. I saw a big pile of leaves, and a tail wagging from one edge. I actually felt quite proud, it was his best hiding place yet.

‘Pickles, I’ve found you,’ I shouted and then laughed as leaves scattered everywhere and he emerged.

‘Shall we go inside?’ I said, feeling increasingly chilled in my fur.

‘Only if we can keep playing.’ He ran ahead and into the house.

I lay down and had forty winks, which I think was enough time for Pickles to hide and then I got up, stretched, and set off upstairs. I looked under Summer’s bed, but he wasn’t there. So much for George’s lesson. I went into Toby’s room, but there was no sign of him there. Same with Claire and Jonathan’s and I checked the bathroom too. I started to panic, but then I heard a gentle bark. Pickles’ bark wasn’t aggressive or scary, and I quite liked it. I followed the sound and found myself back in Toby’s room. Then I saw Pickles. He had somehow got up onto the top bunk of Toby’s bed. Oh no, I’m sure that George hadn’t taught him to go there. And also how did he get up there?

‘How did you get up there?’ I asked. Toby had a ladder to the top bunk, the ladder rungs were quite thick, more like steps really, but still, although George and I could get up easily, I wasn’t sure how that puppy had managed it with his short legs.

‘I climbed up,’ he announced proudly. ‘I went slowly, and it seems that my legs growed so it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either.’

‘Maybe you are getting better at climbing,’ I mused, although I worried that he could have fallen and hurt himself and that would have been my fault, so I didn’t want to encourage him. After all, I was the adult, and I was supposed to be in charge.

‘Yes, I really am. But I don’t know how to get down,’ he said. I looked and thought about it. I climbed up to join him. I didn’t like to go up there, although I had done a couple of times, because heights weren’t my favourite things, and this was higher than I found comfortable. ‘How about you watch me get down and try to copy,’ I suggested as I carefully reached the rungs and made my way down. I hoped the old adage would be right, if you can get up, then you can get down again. But my problem was the down bit. I tried to remain calm, hoping my legs didn’t tremble and give me away, but I didn’t like it at all.

Pickles came to the edge of the bed and stretched out a paw which didn’t reach the next rung down. He squealed, shot back and landed on his tail.

‘Ouch,’ he squealed. ‘I am not coming down, no way, that’s too scary.’ I sighed and tried to work out what to do. What were my options? I could go up again, but I wasn’t big enough to carry him down, which is the only thing I could think of. In fact, he would be more likely to carry me these days.

‘I thought George taught you to hide under beds?’ I asked.

‘Yes, he did but then I thought I would use my own ideas and try up here. I just didn’t think about how to get down again.’

‘Perhaps in future, you might not want to use your own ideas,’ I said, as I sat down to think. After drawing several blanks, I realised, the only way to get Pickles down was with the help of an adult.

‘You’ll have to wait there until Claire comes home,’ I said.

‘Will you stay with me because I’m scared,’ he said. My heart went out to him as his voice shook, and he appeared sad. He was still so young, and we all got in scrapes after all. I’d had my fair share over the years.

‘Of course, I will.’ I felt bad for him, I knew what it was like to be scared, it wasn’t pretty. ‘I’ll be right here,’ I reassured.

‘No, Alfie, can you wait with me up here?’

I had no choice as I climbed up the ladder again while we waited for Claire to come home. Pickles kept nestling closer to me, until he was practically on top of me. He might be a baby, but he was quite heavy as I tried to liberate my tail from underneath him.

‘I won’t have to be here forever, will I?’ he asked, in a smaller voice than normal.

‘No, Pickles, Claire will be back soon, and she’ll get you down, don’t worry,’ I reassured him as we settled down to wait, silently wishing we were back in the pile of leaves.

‘Stay there, I’ll be right back I promise,’ I said as soon as I heard the front door open after what felt like hours later.

‘But don’t be too long,’ he called after me as I made the treacherous journey down the bunk bed steps again.

‘Right, Alfie, I’ll make your lunch. Where’s George? Where’s Pickles?’ Claire asked as I greeted her. I brushed myself against Claire’s legs, yowled a lot and got her to follow me upstairs. When she saw Pickles on the bed, her face was a picture.

‘How on earth did you get up there?’ she asked. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. I blinked at her.

‘Woof,’ he replied. Thankfully, she climbed straight up and lifted him down, and I hoped that he had learnt another lesson, another thing to avoid. Looking after Pickles was turning my grey fur even greyer.

Over lunch, which Pickles devoured greedily, Claire phoned Jonathan and told him that there was still no news about Harold, but the doctors had thankfully ruled out anything life-threatening. It was a relief, and Claire cried, as she spoke. I went and sat with her. But I knew that I needed to tell George because he needed this update more than anyone.

I cleaned myself up to go out.

‘Where are you going?’ Pickles asked.

‘To find George,’ I replied.

‘Can I come with you?’ he asked.

‘No, Pickles, you need to stay with Claire, after all, you’re not allowed out of the garden on your own.’

‘But I wouldn’t be on my own, I’d be with you.’

‘I mean without a human adult,’ I clarified.

‘There are far too many rules for me to keep track of,’ Pickles huffed.

I was out of the cat flap and by the back gate before I realised that Pickles had defied me by following me.

‘Pickles, you need to go back.’

‘I’m coming with you. I want to see George,’ he whined.

‘But Claire will worry if she can’t find you and we really don’t need any more stress,’ I tried to reason, but reasoning with a puppy, it’s not easy.

‘We’ll be back before she even notices,’ he persisted.

I was faced with a dilemma. I needed to find George, to give him the news, and I didn’t want to take Pickles, but if I went home, then I would have to try to sneak out again without him noticing, which I wasn’t sure I could. I had made a promise to George that as soon as there was news I would deliver it, come what may. Or should I say, come what Pickles?

I hoped I wasn’t going to regret this, and I decided I would just go for it. I slid under the gate with ease and stood on the other side. Within seconds Pickles appeared. I groaned, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Maybe, just maybe I could get back before anyone noticed? I crossed my paws and carried on. After all, we were just popping next door. What could go wrong?

‘See, I am just like a cat,’ he said with a grin on his very dog-like face.

‘Oh God, this isn’t going to end well,’ I sighed as I made my way to Hana’s house. I slid through the cat flap and Pickles followed me, although it took him a bit longer, as it was a slightly different set-up to what he was used to. We found Hana and George in the living room.

‘What on earth is that?’ Hana asked as Pickles bounded in, wagging his bottom.

‘That is Pickles. What is he doing here?’ George replied.

‘Hey, guys, do you want to play ball?’ Pickles asked. Hana and George exchanged withering looks.

‘Sorry, George, Claire just spoke to Jonathan about Harold. He is out of danger, stable but they just need to do some more tests, but the good news is that they have ruled out anything serious.’

‘Oh that is good news. Why is your face like that?’ Hana asked, still studying Pickles.

‘It just is,’ George replied. ‘So when will Harold be home?’ George asked.

‘I don’t know, it might be a while yet, but the important thing to remember is that it isn’t serious, or life-threatening.’

‘Thanks for telling me, Dad. Although I still don’t know why he’s here.’

‘He followed me and I thought giving you the news about Harold was more important than trying to get him to do what I told him.’

‘What now, though?’

‘I better get him home before Claire notices that we’ve gone. Are you going to stay here, or come with us?’ I asked.

‘I’ll come,’ George sighed. ‘Someone needs to keep that puppy in line. I’ll come back later, Hana,’ he said. They nuzzled, and we set off.

We were just outside our house when I heard George yowl.

‘Pickles, no,’ he shouted, his eyes frozen in horror. It was as if everything went into slow motion; Pickles had run into the road and was spinning round in circles, but a car was approaching.

‘Pickles, get back here,’ I shouted.

‘Why?’ he asked, not remotely in any kind of hurry to do as he was told, yet again. Panic filled my body, and before I even had time to think or knew what I was doing, I launched myself into the road, in front of him. I lay down and put my paws over my head and hoped for the best. A horn blasted, brakes screeched, and it all went quiet. I didn’t feel anything hurting, I wasn’t sure I could feel anything at all. Was this it? Had I gone too far this time? How could I have done this to my George? I felt my fur shaking in the wind, and my legs started shaking underneath me. I was still alive, and I didn’t seem to have any pain.

‘Dad,’ George said, bounding over and breaking the silence, he sounded worried. I opened my eyes and blinked at my son. I was fine, the car had stopped inches from me. Pickles was standing still for once, although he didn’t seem to understand what was going on. The driver rushed out of her car and leant down to pick me up.

‘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.