A Friend Called Alfie

He wasn’t the most obvious love guru but since he’d been spending time with Ally, Dustbin had definitely changed. He’d softened slightly and he was definitely happier. He had more of a spring in his step. That’s what love did to you. And I had a spring in my step that cold, frosty December morning when I went to see him. I needed some clarity and I think I needed it away from Edgar Road. I had left George in sole charge of Pickles, because I had done more than my fair share of Pickles sitting. George said he was happy to do that and he had gone off to get Hana to come round to ours too to keep them both company. She’d agreed, of course, being the most agreeable cat ever. In order to get away I told him I was working on the plan to get Harold’s ‘lonely people club’, which is what George had named it, up and running. And I was working on that but I was also working on myself. Because there was a part of my heart which did feel lonely, I could acknowledge that now.

When Snowball moved away, I didn’t even want pilchards, that was how bad my heartbreak was. But then Claire had come up with the genius plan to get George, and although I loved him more than anyone I’d ever loved, because he was my son, the part of my heart reserved for a different love had been empty. After Tiger, I hadn’t considered ever falling in love again. I was confused. I felt guilty. For George, for Tiger, and for Snowball. I wasn’t in the habit of just falling in love all over the place, there had only been two loves in my life after all. Claire said it was fate, and although Jonathan didn’t believe in fate, maybe I did.

My thoughts had brought me all the way to Dustbin’s yard.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you, Alfie,’ he said.

‘I needed someone to talk to,’ I replied and I told him how I was feeling. ‘I still love Snowball, my old feelings have come back as strong as ever but I don’t know what to do because of George?’

‘You know George has been through a tough time, which is why he reacted so badly to having Snowball back,’ Dustbin said, when I explained all. ‘Understandable but he did get over that quite quickly. He might not like the idea of the two of you together but I think he’ll come round. He’s a clever cat.’

‘I know, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘Ah, yes, but you know all Tiger really cared about was your happiness, I am sure she still cares about that. Tiger is gone, which is horrible, and you’ll never forget her. The problem is, Alfie, life moves on and you have to move with it.’

‘You’re so wise,’ I said. I was feeling so sad that I lay down and let myself have a little yowl.

‘And we both know that life doesn’t last forever, so we have to live it to the fullest. When I met Ally, I wasn’t interested in companionship. You know me, I’m only friends with you because you were so persistent, didn’t give me much choice, and I’m glad I am. And it was thanks to you that I was able to open my heart up to Ally too. You’re a good friend, Alfie, no, the best friend a cat could have, and that being said, you deserve to be happy too.’

‘Love and friendship, that’s all we want isn’t it?’

‘Two important things and you taught me them.’

‘And about the joys of pilchards! In fact, I really fancy some pilchards.’

‘Shall we go to the restaurant door, look hungry and see if they’ll find something for us?’ Dustbin smiled.

‘You’re speaking my language.’

As we ate sardines, not pilchards, but I’m not one to complain, Dustbin and I discussed the idea Harold had for his lonely people.

‘Remember last Christmas, when you got everyone to the restaurant. That’s probably what inspired Harold.’

‘You might be right. He goes to this senior centre once a week but he says that some people there don’t see anyone apart from that, and often they don’t have a proper cooked meal, because they only cook the basics themselves. It’s sad.’

‘But he’s got the idea, so all you need to do is to let one of the humans find out about it.’

‘Yes, I think Claire, this is right up her street, but I don’t understand why Harold won’t tell her about it.’

‘It sounds as though he’s lacking in confidence,’ Dustbin pointed out.

‘He told Snowball he’s worried they’ll think it’s a silly idea and laugh it off,’ I explained. Dustbin was right. Harold had lost a bit of confidence since being ill, actually, I think it worried him at times, how vulnerable he was. Although I had never suffered a lack of confidence, I could understand it.

‘Right, but, Alfie, if he’s written it down then all you need to do is to get one of them to read what he’s written.’ He said it as if it was simple, and as I thought about it, I realised that it was.

‘Oh, Dustbin, you are a genius on so many levels. Of course, I’ll steal the notebook and take it to Claire.’ My mind was whirring again. Perhaps I wasn’t as planned out as I thought.

‘Or you might find it easier to take Claire to the notebook, and it might be a bit less risky,’ Dustbin narrowed his eyes at me.

‘Of course, Dustbin you really are the best.’ I calmed down and realised he was right. I was a cat. How on earth would I carry a notebook?

‘And tell George that this was your idea. You get this done for him and Harold, and then you will possibly soften him up a bit when you tell him how you feel about Snowball.’

‘Since when did you become the king of plans?’ I asked, only slightly affronted, because normally this was my department.

‘Since your head has been full of confusion about Snowball. Don’t worry you’ll have the crown back in no time.’ He grinned at me, and I grinned right back.

I was so happy as I walked back, things were coming together, I could feel it. My humans were happy, my cats were happy, Pickles was happy – although Pickles was always happy. I felt fully confident of being happy. But as soon as I went through the cat flap I could hear loud and upset voices, and that didn’t sound very good. I immediately panicked, I had left George with Pickles; what if something had happened to either of them?

‘It’s my fault,’ Claire was saying, ‘I shouldn’t have been so stupid.’

‘Claire, calm down, you’re not stupid,’ Sylvie said, hugging Claire. Polly had our cat carrier in her arms, which she put down on the floor.

‘Claire, of course kids leave chocolate lying around at Christmas, it happens, and I’ll get him straight to the vet, honestly, it could have happened at our house.’

I wondered what was going on but Pickles was lying on the floor, a snorting noise coming out of his mouth, his eyes were droopy, he had a sort of white foam and he didn’t look like his normal self at all. I felt panic in the tips of my fur. What was wrong with Pickles? He hadn’t even moved since I got home. George was sitting watching with a horrified look on his face. I turned to him.

‘What happened?’ I asked, as Polly grabbed Pickles and managed to get him into our carrier.

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ George said, eyes wide.

‘I’m sure it wasn’t. But what wasn’t?’

‘Pickles ate some chocolate coins that he found in the living room, where the kids had them, and apparently dogs are allergic to chocolate so now he has to go to the vet, but he just said how much he liked them, even the foil they were wrapped in.’

‘He ate the foil?’

‘Some of it. Dad, I told him not to eat them but he didn’t listen.’

‘Did you tell him that cats never eat chocolate?’

‘No, I didn’t think of that. I’ll tell him that later, if he’s alright. Do you think he’ll be alright? Oh, Dad, he has to be alright.’

‘He’s going to the vet, he’ll be in good hands, like Harold was at the hospital. I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ I wasn’t sure at all, I thought, as I watched Polly lift him gently into the car carrier.

‘I realised that I love him, Dad,’ George said, his eyes sad.

‘We all do, son, we all do.’

I put all thoughts of my plan aside as I tried to console George. He wasn’t going anywhere until he knew that Pickles was alright, he was more fond of the puppy than he let on. He also felt guilty and no matter how many times I told him it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t believe me.

‘And Hana had only just left, you see I was saying goodbye to her at the back door and I came back in and he was already eating them. I only turned my back for a minute.’

‘George, Pickles eats anything and everything, there is just no stopping him.’ It was true, even I wouldn’t want to come between that dog and his food. Or anyone else’s food for that matter.

While we waited for news, Claire was beside herself, as were we all. It was as if we all blamed ourselves, although I wasn’t there I still felt as if I was responsible in some way. We fretted and paced around, restless, hoping that the poor pup would be alright. George lay down eventually, but I knew he wasn’t able to sleep, so I lay next to him nuzzling him, trying to offer some comfort.

Finally, Polly rang with the news that Pickles was going to be alright, although he was still a bit sick. Pickles was going to stay with the vet for a while, for something called observation, and then he’d be home before we knew it. Claire was relieved, although no one blamed her for it, she blamed herself, a bit like George. Claire cried while I comforted her, it hadn’t been fun that was for sure.

But when we knew that Pickles was going to be alright, I persuaded George to go and visit Harold and Snowball.

‘Are you going to come with me?’

‘No, son, I’m exhausted and need to rest,’ I said. I had a plan in place that Dustbin had come up with about the notebook, but for now I had another plan, one of my own. I was hoping the more George and Snowball bonded, the easier it would be when I told him how I felt about her. That was my biggest wish right now. Of course I had to tell Snowball too but I thought that it was almost understood between us already, without us having to say anything. But George was the one whose feelings I had to consider most at the moment, I was a parent after all and his feelings were more important than my own.

When George came home that evening, I had slept, and thought, slept and thought some more. Because of everything going around my brain, I was still tired though.

‘How were Harold and Snowball?’ I asked.

‘I forgot that Harold was at his senior centre this afternoon so I only just saw him when he came home. He was talking about his lonely club again. He’s got ten people so far on his list who don’t really have family around, and he’s very sad about it. As am I. But I told Snowball that you had a plan coming soon.’

‘I do, George, I do.’

‘And on the way home I stopped at Polly’s and Pickles is back, he said they made him be sick, but that he’s fine now although quite hungry.’

‘Ah, that puppy is always hungry.’

‘I know but he wasn’t bothered by it. He said it was another adventure. But I did tell him that cats would never eat chocolate or foil, and he said he had taken that onboard now. But he also said there was a lot of information in being a cat, so he wasn’t sure how much he could retain.’

‘That sounds like Pickles.’

‘I love him, Dad, but at the end of the day he’s only a dog after all.’

I went into the living room where Summer was crying. Jonathan had just got home from work and was scratching his head as if he was confused. I wished he’d scratch my head as much as he did his own, I love a good head scratch.

‘Summer, what’s wrong?’ Claire asked.

‘Henry and Martha said we had nearly killed Pickles and they’re really mad at us,’ Toby explained.

‘They were our chocolate coins,’ Summer said hiccuping the words out.

‘I know, and now we know about Pickles and the fact he can’t eat chocolate maybe we can be more careful about leaving it lying around. It shouldn’t really have been in the living room anyway,’ Claire said gently, hugging Summer. ‘But it was a mistake that’s all and Pickles is fine. Let’s go to Polly and Matt’s now and sort it out.’

‘But what if they shout at us?’ Toby asked.

‘They must have been very worried but, Toby, Summer, this could have happened to anyone, so let’s go and I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘We’ll all go,’ Jonathan said. ‘As a family.’ And off they went.

‘It seems everyone feels guilty about Pickles,’ George said when we were alone.

‘That’s what we do when we love someone, we blame ourselves if anything happens.’

‘I know, you always do with me don’t you?’

‘Yes, George, I do.’

‘But I’m perfect so you really don’t need to,’ he finished.