Alfie in the Snow

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 stick 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.’

‘He’s telling you to get lost, and his face is all red,’ I said carefully, glad that there was a window between us.

‘Oh no, he thinks “Get Lost” is my name,’ George said. ‘He loves playing our game with me, we’re very good friends.’

For a moment I was lost for words. I remembered back to how, when George got his first crush on the horrible Chanel, she would hiss at him and he took that as affection. Nothing I could say would persuade him otherwise. George did have a history of misinterpretation, and it looked as if this was a similar situation. I was still unsure how I would convince him that this man didn’t like him, when the man suddenly came to the window and opened it wide, nearly knocking us both flying. I sprang back off the sill but George somehow managed to jump inside the house. I didn’t realise it until too late.

‘Get lost,’ the man shouted.

I jumped back up on the windowsill. ‘Oh my,’ I exclaimed.

What would happen to George now? I felt fear welling up inside me. This man could really hurt my boy, and I had to stop him.

‘Oh, this is a new part of the game,’ I heard George say as he dodged the old man. I was about to go in – no matter what, I needed to protect my boy – but then I stopped as the old man went a funny colour and then fell over. He was going to fall on George.

‘Yowl,’ I shouted and George managed to jump out of the way before the man reached the ground. ‘Um, George, I don’t think it’s a game any more, he’s lying on the floor.’ I couldn’t see much as it was so dark inside, but the man didn’t appear to be moving and George sprang to his side.

‘Do you think he’s alright?’ George looked at me, stricken. This was all we needed, having just lost Tiger, he couldn’t lose his new friend. Even if the man didn’t like him. I had to think and act quickly.

‘I’ll go and get one of the humans,’ I said. ‘They’ll know what to do. Do you want to come with me?’

‘No, I better stay here, I don’t want him to be alone,’ George replied.

I was in luck. Just as I was a few paw strides from the house, wondering who would be home, I saw Jonathan and Matt walking along the street. I ran in front of them.

‘Hey Alfie, we’re just going home from the pub, football,’ Matt explained.

‘YOWL,’ I cried at the top of my lungs.

‘Oh no, don’t tell me this is another cat emergency,’ Jonathan moaned. It wasn’t my fault that there seemed to be quite a few lately. I jumped on his foot, which caused him to say a bad word.

‘YOWL,’ I screeched again. I then did my signal of running round in circles, before they both seemed to get it.

‘Alfie, you do pick your moments, I’m really hungry,’ Jonathan complained, but I was already hightailing it back to the man’s house.

‘Where the hell are we going?’ They were finally following. I ran as fast as my legs would take me back to the open window. George hadn’t moved, he was right by the man’s side.

‘Meow,’ he greeted us with relief.

‘What on earth,’ Matt peered in the window, ‘is that?’

‘There’s an old man on the ground, I think. With George,’ Jonathan said. ‘It’s dark though.’

‘I’m calling an ambulance. Thank goodness for these cats,’ Matt said, pulling his phone out and dialling.

‘I’ll try to break in,’ Jonathan said, shoving the front door with his shoulder, which didn’t move. ‘Ow,’ he said, rubbing it. I climbed in through the window, trying to show him how it was done. ‘Oh, I guess I can go in that way,’ Jonathan said. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but he made it.

‘Great, why didn’t we think of that?’ Matt rolled his eyes as Jonathan came round and opened the front door for him. ‘Ambulance is on its way.’

Jonathan’s hands were shaking as he opened the door and they both ran in, with me on their heels. The house was freezing. Matt bent down.

‘He’s still alive,’ he said, face flushed with relief. ‘But he’s so cold. Can you go and see if you can find a blanket?’

‘Sure thing,’ Jonathan said, rushing off. George nuzzled into him as close as he could.

‘I’m going to try to keep him warm,’ he whispered to me. I nodded. ‘I can’t let him die too.’ My heart would have broken all over again but I wasn’t sure there was enough left to break just at the moment.

‘Get lost,’ the man said, but so quietly that only we could hear him.

By the time the ambulance arrived, the man, whose name we didn’t know, was wrapped in blankets, and his breathing was steadier. Looking a bit shaken up, Jonathan and Matt stood back to let the paramedics do their job. George and I did the same. Then the paramedics said if the man had been left in the cold for too much longer he might have got hypothermia. It seemed we had saved him and it was all really thanks to George.

Jonathan established what hospital they would be taking the man to and he told them that he and Matt would go there to try to sort things out as they didn’t know anything about him or his family. There were a few photos on the wall of a woman and a boy, and then of the same boy as a young man. Matt searched and found a wallet in the man’s coat pocket, which was hanging by the front door. It had a bus pass in it, for a Harold Jenkins. But there was no other information to hand.

‘Hopefully when he comes round we’ll be able to find out who his family is,’ Jonathan said. ‘God, I wish Claire was here, she’d know what to do.’

‘Meow,’ I said. They could figure this out, surely.

‘Shall we see if we can find some pyjamas to take for him? Maybe a book or something, that’s what Polly would suggest.’ Thank goodness, I thought, at least they were being a bit practical.

‘Good thinking.’ Matt and Jonathan went upstairs and we followed them. The house was a bit of a mess, and none of the lights seemed to work, although they found one that did in the man’s bedroom.

‘Bulbs need changing,’ Matt said. ‘God, being old and alone is depressing.’

They found some clean pyjamas in a drawer and a pair of reading glasses by the bed. They took them and a few bits from the bathroom, which looked as if it was in need of a clean.

‘He obviously can’t really cope on his own,’ Jonathan said. ‘I hope he’s got family. I think I need to start training Summer and Toby up to take care of me when I’m old.’

‘I hear you,’ Matt said. ‘And good work, Alfie and George, he’ll probably be alright thanks to you,’ he finished, as he ushered us all out of the house, locking the door behind him.

I looked at George as Matt and Jonathan set off to get to the hospital.

‘You did so well,’ I said.

‘I hope he’s going to be OK?’ George looked at me, his eyes full of fear.

‘It sounds as if he will be and it’s all thanks to you.’ I nuzzled him and then I took my son home.