Alfie the Doorstep Cat

by Rachel Wells

  Although I was surprised, I concentrated on eating. I could be a bit of an emotional cat and I definitely felt my heart warming; I was touched. I had been determined that I would crack Jonathan, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept coming back, but I hadn’t imagined I would do so quite as quickly as this. If I hadn’t been so busy eating, I would have been jumping for joy.

  After we had both had dinner, we went back to the living room. We were a bit of an odd couple; a big man and a little cat. My heart swelled with happiness as we sat on the sofa together. Jonathan turned on a huge TV and started watching something which involved a lot of violence and men with guns. I could hardly believe I was allowed to sit with him, snuggled up on the sofa. Distractedly, he stroked me as he watched his programme, and although I didn’t like what was on the TV, I really liked the comfort he was giving me so I didn’t move an inch. It strengthened my resolve to make sure I gave Jonathan the help that I knew in my heart he needed.

  I woke very early; I knew because it was still dark. I was a little surprised to see that I was still on Jonathan’s sofa. He hadn’t kicked me off, but left me sleeping. I must have fallen asleep whilst he was watching that gruesome film. I was reluctant to leave, but I really wanted to go to Claire’s, eat some breakfast, and then go and wait at 22A for any movement. I wondered if 22B would be occupied soon, and what the new family there would be like. Perhaps I would visit only the nicest of the two; I still hadn’t forgiven Polly for calling me a baby killer.

  When I arrived, after my morning meal, there was a van outside the building and the door to the other flat was open. It wasn’t a smart looking vehicle, like the one that Matt and Polly had had their furniture delivered in the previous day but a slightly battered, dark blue van that looked as if it might have hit a lot of lamp posts and run over a lot of animals. I shuddered – hopefully not cats. Two men were unloading furniture from it, which they were carrying into the house. I peered into the open front door. 22B was an upstairs flat. As soon as you opened the door there was a small space and then stairs. I was tempted to go in, but I held back as the men carried a table into the flat. They were struggling to negotiate the small space with the piece of furniture, and I sensed the danger of getting involved. They were speaking in a language I didn’t recognise. Their voices were quite loud and animated as if they were rowing, although I didn’t think they were. Mind you, seeing them have to carry the furniture up the steep flight of stairs, if they had been, I guess you couldn’t blame them. I hung back for a while, still itching to go inside, but fearful and unsure. Not only because the men were quite big, but also because of the language I didn’t understand. What if they were from a place where they ate cats? I didn’t know if such a place existed but I didn’t want to take any chances. Agnes had told me tales of countries where they ate dogs. Apparently it was normal for some cultures. I shuddered again. I didn’t want to end my life in anyone’s cooking pot.

  I wanted to find out more about the people who lived here, though. I lay low in the shadows as I saw the men come back downstairs. Despite the fact that I thought I was being discreet, one of the men spotted me and came over to pet me. I blinked a ‘hello’ and he looked as if he blinked back. Although he seemed huge, he was surprisingly gentle with me and I purred at him. He seemed to blink quite a lot as he spoke to me in his strange language, and then a woman appeared and joined him. She was quite small but very pretty, with dark hair and brown eyes. She crouched down to pet me.

  ‘He don’t speak Polish,’ the man said, giving her a kiss.

  ‘Cats no speaking, Thomasz, she replied, in an accented voice. They both laughed and then went back to communicating in their original language. They looked to be about the same age as Polly and Matt, I guessed, and they seemed very kind and friendly. The woman’s smile was really infectious and made me want to smile, although of course I did so with my eyes, by squinting at her. I’m not sure she noticed though, she was busy talking to both the men and I still couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

  ‘He still here,’ she said, suddenly turning her attention back to me.

  ‘Maybe he welcome us here,’ the man joked.

  ‘Maybe. Nice cat I think.’ Her smile disappeared suddenly and she turned to the man, clinging to him and looking scared. I tilted my head to one side, intrigued, as she said something in the funny language again.

  ‘Franceska, it will be OK. We come here for a better life. For us and the boys. I promise you it will be good.’ He took her in his big arms and although she was crying, she managed to smile too. Another friend in need for me, it seemed. I had a radar, and I felt that this street had given me a purpose in life; helping people.

  Relieved that I felt needed, I smiled to myself; I was learning that humans were more complicated than I thought. But they were friendly, and although the woman was sad, I saw a strength in her that neither Claire nor Polly seemed to have. I was sure that I would be welcome here, and I looked forward to coming back. I watched the woman go inside, before realising that it was sunny and bright and therefore time for me to go and get my second meal of the day.

  Stalking through the cat flap, I found Jonathan sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and drinking coffee, dressed in sportswear. I miaowed loudly, to announce that I was there.

  ‘Hello, you. I’m guessing you want to eat?’ I jumped up on the chair next to him, and he laughed.

  ‘OK mate, hang on a minute. Let me finish my toast.’ I sat and waited, patiently. I think Jonathan had made a massive mistake somewhere along the line. I don’t mean the work thing he told me about, but the house. It was so empty with just him there, almost mocking him; taunting him that he was alone. If I was him, I would have chosen something smaller that didn’t seem so empty with just him and me to fill it. One of the flats at number 22 would probably have suited him better. I understood now why he spoke to me; like Claire, it was loneliness. I began to realise that I wasn’t the only one to have suffered from feeling excessive loneliness; I saw it in Claire, I saw it here, and I’d seen something like it, although perhaps not quite the same, in Polly and Franceska.

  There was much for a small cat like me to ponder; there was even more for me to do to put things right.

  Jonathan fed me some tuna from a tin, which wasn’t quite as good as the fresh prawns or smoked salmon, but I wasn’t one to complain.

  ‘I’m going to the gym, Alfie. Need to make sure I don’t get fat living here on my own like a mad man with only a cat to talk to.’ I was startled at his revelation but then he laughed, and I felt relieved. Of course he wasn’t mad, he was just a little unhinged.

  I decided to go and get some exercise as well. I’d eaten twice already and the fact that I was now being fed in two homes was something I had to consider. Of course, I didn’t want to give up eating the food; the memory of struggling to eat for days meant that I would never snub another meal in my life. But if the people at number 22 started feeding me as well, then it wouldn’t be just Jonathan getting fat, but me too. And there was no way that that could happen. I’d never fit in the cat flaps for a start.

  Despite the fact I was visiting different houses in the street, which meant I stalked between them, I was aware I had become a bit lazy, the way I was in my old life with Margaret. I was also looking better, being a much heartier weight. However, I still couldn’t chance being too lazy or complacent. What if I had to somehow survive on my own again? And although I shuddered at the thought, I knew it was a possibility. Hopefully not one I’d face, but one I had to be prepared for, this time, as I was never going to take chances ever again.

  I was curled up in the special cat bed Claire had bought me, when I heard her key in the lock. My new bed was blue and white striped, and although it was not as comfortable as my old cat basket, it was pretty nice. Claire made a bee-line straight for me and gave me a huge fuss, which I really appreciated. I was also relieved. I had been worried she might come back crying; I had even fretted that she might not come back at all. ‘
I’ve missed you Alfie,’ she said, and I felt my heart warming, ‘I hope you missed me.’ She was smiling and she looked better. She was still too thin, of course, reminding me of how I was when she first met me. But her hair was glossy and her cheeks had some colour in them. It looked as if the weekend away had done her good.

  For a moment, I panicked that it might mean that she would move back there, where she came from, but then I tried to calm myself. She was here, wasn’t she? She had come back; I had to focus on that. I knew I worried far too much for a cat, but that was the consequence of my past. I was learning that I was drawn to helping people who mirrored the feelings I had experienced. The attraction seemed so strong that I knew it was important for me to do whatever I could for them.

  She went to the kitchen to feed me and she put the kettle on and made a cup of tea.

  After I’d eaten, she went to get a bag and came back with various toys for me. There was a thing that slightly resembled a mouse on a bit of string, a ball, some more catnip, and something that jangled. I rubbed up against her legs, in thanks; but in reality, I would have been just as happy with a shoelace. I’d never been much of a toy cat, not even as a kitten, but that was mainly because Agnes was so disdainful of that sort of thing. I wanted to impress her, so I too would act as if the toys were beneath me. I made an effort to play with them to please Claire, though. I wouldn’t want her to think me ungrateful.

  I chased the ball under the sofa, and then almost got stuck trying to retrieve it. I batted it with my paw and it rolled back out. As I emerged, I saw Claire laughing. She clapped her hands in delight. So then I tried to pick up the jangly thing with my paws but it slipped out and across the floor. I chased it again; it made a very strange tinkling noise. Every time I thought I’d got the toy, it slipped from my grasp, so I ended up going backwards and forwards across the room, which was infuriating. Claire seemed to find this delightful, although I couldn’t for the life of me understand why.

  She went upstairs, saying something about unpacking, and I decided to have another rest; playing was hard work. Also, the meal I had just wolfed down had made me sleepy – it was time for a cat nap. I awoke to laughter; a fairly alien sound in Claire’s household, so I was immediately alert. Tasha appeared and picked me up, making a huge fuss of me as she nestled into my neck.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ she said. She was definitely a cat person and I wondered why she didn’t have her own cat as she seemed to like me so much. I knew she didn’t, as I would have detected the smell on her.

  Claire reappeared, carrying two glasses.

  ‘He’ll want to live with you, if you carry on like that,’ she said, laughing. Oh, where had the miserable Claire gone? She seemed like a different person. I couldn’t wait to hear what had caused this change.

  ‘I wish I could take him home, but unfortunately my other half is allergic to cats, so I just have to enjoy him here.’

  ‘Oh how awful, really allergic?’

  ‘Yes, I need to shower when I get home from here and wash my clothes, that’s how bad he is. Of course, if he’s been an idiot, I might just forget …’ They both laughed. I felt a bit affronted. I wasn’t sure that being allergic to me should be a laughing matter. What kind of person was allergic to cats?

  Claire left the room again and reappeared with some plates of food. She put them on the dining table, and they both sat down. To my amazement and delight, Claire ate. She ate more than I had ever seen her eat. I wanted to jump for joy, my Claire was definitely getting better, but I decided not to startle her by making a fuss.

  ‘So, do tell,’ Tasha said. ‘Something good obviously happened this weekend.’

  ‘Oh God, I feel so much better. Like I’ve completed the first quest in a mission, or something. I confronted my demons and survived them! You know, going home and risking bumping into them. And I did!’ Claire sounded almost gleeful and I tried to understand, but at the moment, it was beyond my limited comprehension.

  ‘Where?’ Tasha asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘Mum and I went to the supermarket. She still treats me like I’m five and she insisted on stocking up on food for me to bring home. Honestly, she acts like there are no supermarkets in London.’

  ‘Claire, get to the point,’ Tasha pushed, with a giggle.

  ‘Sorry, anyway, so we’re in the vegetable aisle and suddenly they both appear. Him pushing a trolley, and her moaning about something. I saw them before they saw me and neither of them looked happy.’ Claire, however, looked very happy.

  ‘What was she saying?’ Tasha and I were riveted.

  ‘No idea, but anyway, she was fat. I mean fatter than she ever was before they got together, and first I worried she was pregnant,’ Claire said.

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘No, but I’ll get to that. Mum was grabbing my arm for dear life, and then we came face to face. He didn’t look great, if I’m honest. But maybe that was because I was seeing him properly for the first time.’

  ‘Without your rose-tinted glasses?’

  ‘Exactly. Anyway, he said “hello” and I said “hello”. She stood with her mouth wide open, and I was relieved I’d put on nice clothes and done my hair and make-up.’

  ‘I told you to look your best at all times, just in case you saw the bastard.’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness I listened to you!’ She laughed and I wanted to give her a kiss, which I did, but on her arm, as she was still talking. I was proud of my Claire, although I wasn’t sure exactly why. ‘So, then I asked how they were, and they mumbled that they were fine, but I’m not sure they were. I mean I know I’m too thin, I do see that now, but how on earth can she have put on about three stone in a couple of months? She looked nothing like the woman he left me for. Anyway the worst bit is that, while I was civil, my mother stood beside me, quiet as a mouse, and then suddenly, from nowhere, she asked when the baby was due!’

  ‘Nooo, she didn’t?’

  ‘She did. I should have felt a bit smug, as she stormed off and Steve mumbled that there wasn’t a baby, but I almost felt sorry for them. I don’t know why. I mean, she knew he was married when she slept with him, and they nearly destroyed me with their behaviour, but I actually felt sorry for them. Which is brilliant!’ Claire and Tasha hugged, and giggled like school children.

  I miaowed my approval. I might not know much but I’ve seen on the TV how relationships can ruin humans’ lives, to the point where I wonder if it wouldn’t be a better world if people were like cats? Of course we know love, but when it comes to romance, we are too wise to the way of the cat world to put all our kittens in one basket; we are necessarily pragmatic. I do find some female cats attractive, actually most of them, but I am not naive enough to think that we will be monogamous for life. Cats may be together for only a few days, or weeks, or months if we’re lucky, but then we either have kittens or we move on. Perhaps if humans fixated less on having to be with one person for the rest of their lives, they might actually find that life works a bit better for them?

  ‘So going home was a good thing after all, despite your reluctance?’

  ‘Not only because I saw them, and actually it didn’t upset me the way I was sure it would, but it made me feel that moving here wasn’t just running away any more. I want to be in London; with a good job and prospects, my lovely little home, Alfie, and of course my new friends. I actually enjoyed being home but I wanted to come back. I’m not completely fine, I know that, but I’ll admit some of the fear has gone.’

  ‘Well, this calls for a celebration. End of this week, I’ll organise a girls’ night out. We’ll hit the town and go to some of the best bars in London. Plenty of cocktails and cute men.’

  ‘You know what, I think I’m ready.’

  ‘Had she really put on three stone?’ Tasha asked.

  ‘I don’t know exactly, but she had definitely put on a lot. And unlike me, she didn’t really need to.’

  I was now under the table, and I snuggled into Claire’s legs, trying to convey to her t
hat I was proud of her transformation. It was similar, of course, to my own, but now she needed to eat properly and drink less wine, and well, she might be as good as me. It seemed clear that Claire was now ready for her new beginning.

  ‘To new beginnings,’ she said, as she raised her glass. I wondered if she could read my mind as I jumped on the table and tried to join in with the toast.

  By the time that Claire and Tasha had nearly finished a second bottle, and were talking nonsense, I decided to sneak out to check on Jonathan. Now Claire was happier, I thought it might be time to concentrate a bit more on finding Jonathan’s smile. I had recognised a need in Claire that I knew, because I had been in her position, in my own way, and I felt as if I had been able to comfort and calm her. Now I had to do the same with Jonathan. We had made progress but there was still a way to go. I had my work cut out for me; that was for sure.

  I entered through the cat flap and found him in the living room, lying on the sofa again. He looked at me but didn’t even say anything, which wasn’t like him. There was no insult or greeting; he almost looked through me. He went back to staring at the TV, but he looked bad. His hair was a mess and he was wearing his pyjamas. He looked as if he had been there for a long time.

  I didn’t know what to do, but I went and sat next to him and miaowed gently.

  ‘If you’re hungry, you’re out of luck. I’m not moving,’ he said, sounding cross. Then he leant over and he stroked me as if to say he wasn’t cross. Mixed messages again. I wanted to tell him that I had just had a lovely meal and I had only come to be kind, but I wasn’t sure that my miaows conveyed that, exactly. I gave it a try. Jonathan wasn’t the sort of human that I found easy to figure out, but then perhaps I wasn’t an easy cat to figure out either. All I knew was that underneath his tough exterior, he was lonely and scared. I saw the fear in him as I had felt it in myself.