Alfie and George: A heart-warming tale about how one cat and his kitten brought a street together

Chapter Nine (#ulink_9d429a53-1b8f-525f-82cb-2f4c3596c044)

My paws were rooted to the spot as Claire bent down to bring me nose to nose with the kitten. My kitten. I felt a wave of panic, as he, George, eyed me suspiciously. He really was incredibly small, and somehow also mesmerising. The children were all so excited by him, but I didn’t know what to do.

‘Can I see?’ little Tomasz said, saving me, as the three children crowded round and took turns having a cuddle. George made these quiet and very cute mewing sounds, and I wanted to both take care of him and run away in equal measure.

I used the distraction of the children fussing over him to head to the back door. I needed some fresh air, time to breath and think. Yes, that was what I should do, just take a few moments to clear my head and then I would come back and deal with the situation. What on earth was Claire thinking? How was I supposed to cope with George when I couldn’t cope with myself?

At times like this, I couldn’t help thinking that Jonathan was infinitely the more sensible of the two. How on earth could Claire think that getting me a kitten would help me in any way, shape or form?

I needed to get out. I wanted to go and see Tiger and tell her about this terrible turn of events, so I ran to jump through my cat flap.

‘Yowl.’ I hit the cat flap with force, but it didn’t move and bounced me backwards, taking me by surprise as I landed on my tail. Ouch, that hurt.

‘Oh goodness, sorry, Alfie.’ Claire rushed forwards.‘We had to close the cat flap because of George. It’s not forever, only until he’s allowed out.’ She looked a bit guilty at this, at least.

‘So how is Alfie going to go out?’ Aleksy asked, echoing my thoughts. He was holding George and cuddling him. Normally I might have been put out by the fact that they all seemed far more interested in this striped kitten than me, but I didn’t have the energy to be jealous. Especially as I now had a sore tail and no idea how to escape.

‘Well, we’ll just have to kind of figure it out I guess,’ Claire said, looking as if she hadn’t thought this through. ‘We’ll let him out if he stands by the door and then when he wants to come in, he can miaow loudly so we hear him. He is a clever cat after all.’ She sounded as if this was the most normal thing, which for me it certainly was not, and Jonathan rolled his eyes. I wished I could do the same; it seemed I was to be a prisoner in my own home. On top of everything else, I had lost my freedom.

‘And anyway, he’s been out all day. Alfie, you need to stay in and bond with George,’ she said. Great. I’d had a lovely weekend away and now I was trapped with a kitten. He might be adorable, but still … This was not what I wanted, not at all.

However, showing my displeasure would have taken energy and, despite the fact that Claire had just managed to make my terrible life even worse, I still loved her. I guessed she was trying to do the right thing. I could hear Franceska saying what a great idea it was and even big Tomasz seemed to agree. It seemed only Jonathan and myself had any reservations about this George. And anyway, what kind of name was that for a kitten?

As we saw my friends out, I nuzzled the boys, wishing in a way that I could go back with them. How simple my life had been that morning: just me and Dustbin, playing with the boys, sardines on tap, heartbreak. But now … Now I had a kitten and no idea what I was supposed to do with him.

I went to the living room and Summer came bounding in after me. She cuddled me, a little roughly, as she always does, but I knew she meant well. I worried fleetingly for George. Summer wasn’t the gentlest child and he was so small and fragile.

‘Sum, you have to be really careful with George,’ Claire said. I felt immediately relieved. She carried George in and put him on the floor. He stood up, not quite as tiny as he had first seemed now that he was on four legs. I tried to remember being that young but my memory failed me. I remembered when I went to my first home, feeling scared, and then having to face the formidable Agnes, my owner’s other cat. Though she didn’t like me for a few weeks, she eventually became like a sister to me. But that was all I could recall. As George came right up to me, sniffing me, I looked kindly at him. It wasn’t his fault. He was just a helpless kitten. Oh goodness, he was my helpless kitten now. I nudged gently at him with my nose. I didn’t have it in me to be anything but kind to the poor little thing. As he looked at me with those eyes, waving his little tail gently, I knew that, somehow, I had to take care of him. He was my kitten.

‘Look, Jonathan, look, Alfie already loves him. I knew it!’ Claire sounded triumphant. George looked at me questioningly. Although Agnes had eventually come round, it had been difficult and scary for me at first, and I couldn’t do that to George. I wouldn’t do it to anyone, but especially not this little chap. But then I’m a tom and we are typically far less difficult than women. Well, I think so anyway! George came closer to me and then Summer approached with a piece of ribbon in her hands. He was wide-eyed as he bounded over to play with it.

As Summer giggled and George chased the ribbon, Claire looked on happily. Even I couldn’t stop a smile finding its way onto my face.

‘I knew it would work out. Adding to our family isn’t a bad thing, Jonathan. In any way we can,’ she said pointedly, giving his cheek a kiss.

He hugged her back but he didn’t reply.

That evening we ate our first supper together. Though George had his own bowl of food he kept looking longingly at mine.

‘Hello,’ I said warmly, when the humans were out of earshot.

‘Hello,’ he replied in his little voice.

‘This is your first tea here. I hope you enjoy it.’

‘Thank you.’ I could hear his voice shake a little and I thought he must be terrified; he certainly looked it.

George had special kitten food, which meant they couldn’t leave my food down on the floor in case he ate it. Claire had told me that if I wanted it I had to eat it all at once. This kept getting worse! I, like many cats, liked to graze, not always licking the bowl clean straight away. But now I had to eat it all or lose it. George ate from his bowl tentatively; the poor thing really did seem confused, and after tea, he followed me to the living room.

‘Aren’t you going to clean me?’ he asked, as I began my ablutions.

‘What? No,’ I replied. ‘You clean yourself.’ I immediately felt guilty for sounding so irritated. It was enough effort to keep myself spick and span, but that wasn’t George’s fault. He looked at me, wide-eyed, and I melted a bit. Damn, he was just so cute.

‘My mum always cleaned me,’ he said, sounding so forlorn I wanted to wail. ‘I miss her.’ I almost crumpled. This poor kitten was in a strange home for the first time, and although it happened to all of us, it would take some getting used to for him. Yes, he was lucky to have ended up in such a loving home, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy for him. I needed to be the strong one for him. I had been thinking about myself too much and someone else needed me more: George.

‘Look,’ I said, more gently this time. ‘Watch me and then you can learn how to do it.’ I slowly cleaned myself while he looked on.

Later that night, Claire announced she was going to bed, picking up George, who had been sleeping on her lap. He yawned and blinked. I followed them upstairs. His tiny bed had been placed next to mine. I climbed into mine and Claire placed George in his. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, I was woken by distressed mewing. As I opened my eyes and pricked my ears I saw it was George, crying in his bed.

‘George? What’s wrong?’ I asked, sleepily.

‘I miss my mummy,’ he cried, and I felt very sorry for him. I don’t remember my cat mum, and I knew that George would forget over time, but now he was distraught and I felt my already broken heart break some more.

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘I know plenty about missing those you love, but you’ve got us now – me, Claire, Jonathan and Summer and the other families. You’ll be OK.’ The poor mite deserved comfort, so I tried to sound reassuring. I stretched across and climbed into his bed, curling up and wrapping my tail around him, in the way I hoped a parent would.

‘Are you my new mummy?’ he asked, looking at me hopefully.

‘No, George. I’m male, a boy. A mummy is female.’