Alfie In The Snow

December beckoned, with its demands for Christmas trees and advent calendars, and excitement was palpable among the young members of my family. The auditions for the nativity had taken place and everyone was waiting eagerly to learn of their parts. Even George forgot to be surly at all times. Although we were still shrouded in sadness – Tiger was getting worse, and the situation next door with Sylvie, Connie and Hana was no better – amidst all that, Christmas had officially started in Edgar Road.

Tiger was hanging on but we were seeing less and less of her. Not only was she hardly going out, but her family had started closing her cat flap more often, and so George and I were able to snatch only occasional moments with her, which were becoming rarer. If the cat flap was shut, she would try to make it to a window to see us, it had become our new thing, but it wasn’t the same. Poor George had to talk to his new friend and his mum through a window, and I could tell he was getting frustrated with both. And he wasn’t the only one. I had nothing. No plans, no schemes, and no idea how to fix any of the messes we were surrounded with. I was a cat without a plan and I was nursing a very bad heartache.

‘Claire, how on earth are we going to get a tree that size home?’ Jonathan said. Claire had been to the tree man down the road and had just announced that she’d reserved a tree which was over six-foot tall.

‘Tomasz said he’d go with you in his van.’ Claire indicated the conversation was closed. She was drawing up big plans for Christmas. She talked of something called ‘hygge’.

‘What on earth is that?’ Jonathan had despair written all over his face.

‘It’s Danish and it’s to do with cosy, simple pleasures, and I want to make our house feel like that this year.’

Jonathan just shook his head.

‘I’ve got lots of candles and this is going to be a proper family Christmas,’ she announced.

‘Let’s just hope we don’t burn the house down,’ Jonathan finished.

I left them, Claire talking through her plans for making the house Christmassy, and Jonathan still shaking his head, and went to find my boy.

George had reacted just as you would expect a child to react; he was angry, scared and he felt as if he was being abandoned. Parents are meant to protect their children and both Tiger and I had failed him in this. I remembered how I felt when my sister cat, Agnes, died when I was just a kitten. I’d been so lost without her and I didn’t understand. My owner was beside herself and so I retreated into myself. I’d felt as if I had no one to turn to and then, when Margaret died a year later, I was utterly alone. But George wasn’t alone; not that that would make him feel better right now. I was pretty sure that nothing would make him feel better right now. It broke my heart, which was already breaking over Tiger. I was worried there would be nothing left. But I had to pull myself together. For Tiger, and for George.

I set off down the road to find him. George was always home for tea, and with all the drama I realised I hadn’t seen him for quite a while. He was loitering near the front of Tiger’s house.

‘Ah, there you are.’

‘So?’ George looked at me angrily.

‘Well, it’s just that I hadn’t seen you for ages and it’s teatime.’

‘Whatever,’ he said, sounding just like a teenager.

George looked at me with his beautiful big eyes, but I couldn’t tell how he was feeling.

‘It’s about Tiger mum.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ He sat and flicked his tail angrily towards me.

‘OK, then you can just listen. What has happened sucks.’ I employed ‘teenage’ speak in the hope of getting through to him. ‘For her, for me, and most of all for you. Saying goodbye is the hardest thing we have to do in our lives, and I know this as I’ve done it a number of times before. But, and this is where I need you to listen, if you don’t say goodbye to Tiger mum, while you’ve got the chance, then you’ll regret it, and I can’t let you do that. I promise you that I love you, and I’ll be here for you for a long time to come, but now I need you to talk to me about it.’

‘But, I don’t want to,’ he said, his voice small, tinged with sadness. His tail was wrapped around his body as if he was trying to protect himself.

‘I know, son, and if I could have it any other way I would, but I can’t. You need to say goodbye and you need to say it now. Please don’t leave it until it’s too late. Don’t regret it or be angry with us, because this isn’t anyone’s fault.’

George sat silently. I could tell he was mulling my words over, but I was determined. I would somehow drag him round there if I had to – although I had no idea how, he was quite a weight now. I crossed my paws that it wouldn’t come to that.

‘Should I go to find her right now?’ he asked, his eyes full of fear.

‘I’ll be right with you,’ I said, as we set off.

We made our way round to the back of the houses. It was eerily quiet, apart from the odd bird squawk or the faint sound of a car engine – it was like a ghost street. I could feel our uncertainty, shivering as we walked. We reached the back doorstep and looked at each other. I tipped my head slightly, and then I checked the cat flap. Thankfully it was open; I let myself have a huge sigh of relief. I gestured for George to go through first and then I followed, hot on his paws. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.

We both padded through to the living room, where Tiger was in her bed, in the same place I had left her last night. The fire warmed the room and I immediately felt my fur start to defrost. I nudged George slightly as he paused and we both made it to her bed at the same time.

‘Tiger,’ I whispered, hoping against hope that she was still with us. I almost didn’t dare breathe.

‘Mum,’ George said, and I thought my heart would crack in two. After what seemed like an eternity she opened her eyes.

‘My two favourites,’ she said, her voice quiet and raspy.

‘Mum, I’m sorry,’ George cried. ‘I just couldn’t bear to say goodbye but Dad told me I would be sad if I did but even sadder if I didn’t. I don’t want you to go.’

‘I don’t want to go either, son,’ she said. George hopped into the bed and snuggled into her.

They say cats don’t shed tears but I swear my eyes were full of them.

‘I will always love you, George,’ she said. ‘Remember that, and I’ll always be part of you and you’ll always be part of me.’

‘And I will always love you too, Mum,’ he replied.

‘Be good for your dad, be true to yourself and you’ll grow into a fine adult cat.’

‘And wherever you are, you’ll see me? You’ll always watch over me?’

‘I will, George, even though you won’t be able to see me.’

‘But I want to see you,’ he cried. Tiger gave me an anxious glance.

‘You know, George, your dad and my favourite thing to do was to watch the moon, and you know when we did we also saw lots of stars in the sky. If you ever want to see me then look into the night sky and I will be the brightest star. I won’t be able to be with you but I’ll always be there.’

‘You’ll be in our hearts forever,’ I said, not for the first time, but I didn’t know how else to say goodbye and I didn’t trust myself to speak further.

‘And you mine. Be the best you can be and, George, try to keep your dad out of trouble.’ They both grinned and nuzzled.

‘Oi,’ I said, trying to sound jovial, but feeling as if the words were going to choke me.

‘You two have each other, you need to be a team, a family, please remember that,’ Tiger said. Before we could answer, I saw her body go rigid, then still. Her eyes closed. I looked at George, he looked at me. We both knew she had gone. It was almost as if we had seen her go and I was rooted to the spot. I watched my boy yowl into Tiger’s fur and I knew that we would never see or hear her again. Not in the real world anyway. Tiger had breathed her last breath and now we had to find a way to carry on without her.

After a long while, I gave George a gentle nudge.

‘We should go, son,’ I said. ‘Her family will be down soon.’ I felt for them, how they would wake up today and find Tiger gone, that would be so hard for them, but I couldn’t help. For once in my life I felt totally helpless.

‘OK, Dad,’ George replied, and reluctantly, wishing with our hearts that we didn’t have to go, we both gave her one last nuzzle before leaving.