by Rachel Wells
Gilbert had made himself scarce. We said goodbye to him that morning as we had a last walk before our long journey home. He didn’t actually like to see us go, he said it made him sad, so he would always disappear just before we were setting off. He was a softy at times, despite the fact that he was a survivor cat, who proved to be made of sterner stuff than many. I would miss him. But I knew we’d see him again soon. And as I felt sad I remembered how lucky I was to have so many friends and such good ones at that.
Once the house was emptied of our stuff, Claire, as usual, had to check the house again before she was satisfied we hadn’t left anything behind. Jonathan would surely moan about the traffic they were bound to hit if we didn’t get moving soon. They rounded up the children who were tearful at having to say goodbye to their summer holiday. Claire jollied them along by reminding them they were going to see their friends at home soon, and George and I were put into our car carrier, which I didn’t love to be honest. Although George and me were in it together, and there was a soft blanket for us to lie on, I wasn’t a fan of feeling caged. It made me a bit anxious, not that I’d let on to George. It was a shame, I thought, as I hid my feelings that Jonathan didn’t do the same.
‘Claire, if we don’t get going soon I’m going to be driving for hours and hours longer than necessary,’ he snapped.
‘OK, keep your hair on, we’re ready. Toby, strap yourself in,’ she commanded as she strapped Summer into her car seat. Toby was old enough to do it himself. Finally, after going back to check the house one last time, Claire got into the car.
‘Right, can I leave now?’ Jonathan asked, sounding tetchy.
‘Yes, is everyone alright?’
‘I’m hungry,’ Summer said, and the long journey home began.
It was nightfall by the time we reached Edgar Road. Jonathan was right, the traffic had been terrible, but Claire managed to entertain him by asking him crossword clues. I learnt that if Jonathan felt clever he was happy, so I think Claire only asked him clues she knew he’d know the answer to. She was quite intelligent, my Claire. The children were given snacks, and finally, they fell asleep, which meant the journey was long but peaceful. Even George slept gently beside me. I was desperate to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. As Claire got the children into the house and Jonathan took the luggage out, letting George and me out first, I breathed the London air, so different from Devon but so familiar.
‘Welcome home, son,’ I said as George and I stretched. Before we went into the house, I allowed myself a quick glance towards where Tiger used to live. No, it wasn’t easier yet, but I hoped that it would before too long as I swallowed back a yowl.
When Tiger was alive the first thing I would have done after a holiday was to have gone to see her, and tell her how glad I was to be home. But I couldn’t do that now, I couldn’t tell her how much I’d missed her, and it pained me to have to turn away from her house, knowing she was no longer there.
I blinked away a tear, ushered my son inside the house and stepped into the warmth of home. Once in the kitchen, I prepared to settle him down for the night, it had been a long and tiring journey. Frankly I just wanted to forget everything and sleep, hoping tomorrow I would wake up feeling better, or at least ready for a new day.
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 t
here 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 an
d 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.
