Alfie Far From Home

‘YELP!’

‘Alfie?’ Viola said.

I looked and saw Viola and Stanley sitting at a pull-out table, playing a game. Mr Clover was driving, Mrs Clover sat next to him.

‘Oh yikes,’ Stanley said. ‘Alfie, what are you doing here?’

‘Miaow.’ Obviously I’d fallen asleep and woken up in a moving house. Oh well, no problem, they couldn’t have gone far.

‘We’ve been driving for three hours,’ Viola said.

Three hours?

She bit her lip. ‘Mum?’ Carefully, she moved nearer the front.

‘Yes, dear?’

‘It seems that Alfie has accidentally stowed away.’

‘What? WHAT? Dear, stop the van, we have to stop the van. STOP.’

‘Oh goodness, oh goodness.’

Whilst Mr and Mrs Clover panicked, I started cleaning myself. I couldn’t believe I’d been asleep all that time.

‘Dad, just pull over when it’s safe,’ Viola said sensibly.

A few minutes later, Mr Clover found a lay-by.

‘We’ll just have to go home,’ Mr Clover said.

‘But we’re nearly there!’ Viola pointed out.

‘Then we at least need to phone Alfie’s family,’ Mrs Clover said. ‘The number’s on his collar.’

‘Yes, let’s phone them. That’s exactly what we’ll do,’ Mr Clover said.

‘But then what?’ Mrs Clover asked.

‘Just explain we’re in Devon and that Alfie will have to come on holiday with us for a week,’ Viola suggested.

‘But a cat, on holiday. I mean whoever heard of such a thing?’ Mrs Clover shrieked.

Actually, I had been on holiday before, but I couldn’t tell them that.

‘Mum, Dad, calm down,’ Stanley said.

Viola’s plan sounded good to me. I’d miss my other families but a holiday might just be what the vet ordered.

‘OK.’ Mrs Clover calmed down and phoned my home. I was going on holiday!

For the rest of the journey, I was as excited as Stanley. Only Viola was quiet.

We stopped by a sign that said Curly Wood Campsite and were greeted by a man and a woman.

‘Mr Clover and family.’ Mr Clover got out of the van.

‘Welcome to Curly Wood. I’m Mr Green the campsite manager, and this is my wife, Mrs Green.’ The man who welcomed them was tall and thin with a funny moustache on his face which looked a bit like a slug. I hoped it wasn’t a slug. The lady was wearing a tool belt.

‘Thank you,’ Mrs Clover said.

‘I need to undertake a routine check of your vehicle,’ said Mr Green. He pulled a book out of his shirt pocket.

‘Oh, OK.’ Mrs Clover looked unsure.

‘Nice camper van.’ He climbed in and came face to face with me. He jumped; I put a paw up in greeting. ‘A cat?’

‘Yes, funny story, he sort of ended up here, we didn’t mean to bring him—’ Mr Clover explained.

‘I don’t think visiting cats are permitted on our campsite,’ Mr Green said. ‘We have a cat called Humphrey but he lives with us.’ He began looking through his book. ‘We do allow well-behaved dogs, although they must be kept on a lead at all times, but …’ He scratched his head.

Dogs? Did I hear right? I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay now.

‘We promise he’ll be no trouble,’ Stanley said.

The man looked at him, took a whistle out of his pocket and blew it loudly. We all jumped.

‘I’m looking through my rule book and I appreciate silence.’

After a while, he put the book back in his shirt pocket. ‘I am not happy but unfortunately I can’t find anything in the rule book about visiting cats. And I can’t break the rules when enforcing the rules, so, against my wishes, he can stay.’

‘Hooray,’ Stanley said; he was silenced by a look.

‘But one whiff of trouble and you’ll be out.’ Mr Green pointed his whistle at me. ‘Enjoy your stay.’ As he left the van, he asked Mrs Green to show us where to park.

We stood outside the van; we were going to look around the campsite.

‘Alfie, you need to stay inside,’ Mr Clover said, lifting me back in. ‘We assured your family we’d take care of you and we can’t risk you getting lost. Or worse,’ he finished.

What could be worse than getting lost? Some holiday this was! But then I noticed an open window. When the coast was clear, I jumped out. There were tents, caravans and other camper vans and in the distance I could see the wood. It was lovely—

‘Hisss.’

I stopped, turned and found myself staring at a plump ginger cat.

‘Hello.’ My legs trembled.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked nastily.