Alfie the Holiday Cat

‘This Christmas business is quite overwhelming,’ George said. ‘All that stuff everywhere. Although I really like the paper and the boxes.’

‘I know, and we are the lucky ones, George, look at us, fish for breakfast, a stocking full of toys and cat treats for us to enjoy later, a loving family and not to mention that after a big lunch we will get some yummy turkey. Honestly, you will see what a lucky kitten you are this Christmas.’

‘Of course I’m lucky, I’ve got you.’ George nuzzled me and I grinned. I was the lucky one actually.

I had an idea. ‘George, would you like to give me a Christmas present?’ I asked.

‘Course I would. Dad,’ he replied, sweetly.

‘Please, no more climbing the Christmas tree.’ I had my paws crossed.

‘Oh, I can do that. I promise I won’t climb it ever again. It was too scary when I thought I might fall down.’

Breakfast was a distant but lovely memory by the time we went outside for a breath of air and also in the hope that we would see Tiger, my cat girlfriend, who George thought of as his mum. It was becoming parents to George that had brought us together, and we were very happy in our roles and our relationship. I had been madly in love once, with a cat called Snowball who lived next door. At that time Tiger and I were only friends. But when Snowball moved away, leaving me heartbroken, Tiger did all she could to help me and when George was adopted as my kitten, she took on a motherly role, which made me see her in a different light. I was an older and, I liked to think, wiser cat by then, and so a relationship with Tiger was what I needed. We had been friends for a long time, she kept my paws firmly on the ground and I made her more adventurous. We complemented each other and being parents to George, who liked to get himself into scrapes, was definitely a bonding experience. He kept us both on our paws.

The cold nipped at us as soon as we entered the garden, but we kept going. The sky was thick and grey, it was early still. I could tell that it was going to be a crisp winter’s day, there was a little frost sticking on the grass, which made walking quite uncomfortable, cold and wet. We didn’t hang around, as we ran to Tiger’s.

We lurked at her back door, under a bush, out of sight of her humans in case they came out. They didn’t mind George but they didn’t like me being around. I couldn’t think why; most people seemed to think I was quite a charming cat. Before long I heard the clang of the cat flap and Tiger emerged.

‘Tiger mum!’ George bounded up to her and they nose-kissed. It always melted my heart to see the love between them, I was a softy when it came to those I loved, humans and cats alike.

‘Happy Christmas,’ I said, trying to keep my emotions in check.

‘To you both too,’ Tiger replied. ‘Gosh, you are early though, I had barely woken up. Anyway, George, how is your first Christmas so far?’ she asked with a swish of her tail.

‘Well, Santa brought me wrapping paper and we got pilchards for breakfast so so far it’s the best day ever!’ George’s enthusiasm was so refreshing; I know it taught me a lot. I loved the way that he made me see things through his eyes, as if I was seeing them for the first time. That was the joy of kittens and children if you paid enough attention to them.

‘And he jumped on the Christmas tree and nearly sent it flying,’ I added. George conveniently left that out.

‘Oh, George,’ Tiger said, but she didn’t sound cross, she was amused. I was the disciplinarian in this parenting duo.

‘How is your day so far, Tiger?’ I asked.

‘It’s barely started! But you know, my family have a very quiet Christmas. We haven’t exchanged gifts yet, although I get one of those cat stockings every year so, surprise! Thankfully they are cooking a proper Christmas dinner but really Christmas is for the kids, isn’t it?’ She nuzzled George.

‘It is, you should see Toby, he’s so happy now. I think he was so scared by the whole thing, I don’t think he’d had very good Christmases before, which is really upsetting, but he’s playing with his toys and he’s having a lovely time now.’

George was playing with a leaf which was wet as the frost had melted and drops kept falling onto his head. We laughed as he tried to brush the water away, indignantly, with his paws.

‘And Summer?’

‘Summer is Summer. She’s obsessed with this pig called Peppa, and she’s got toys, games and all sorts. She’s still our little ray of sunshine. They’re all happy, which makes me happy.’ I snuggled into Tiger and grinned. Life was good right now, and Christmas was just the icing on the (fish) cake. I was always conscious of the fact that me and all my families had been through tough and challenging times, so when things were good I had learnt to appreciate them. I was an optimistic cat but even I knew the good times didn’t always last. In fact they rarely did.

‘Well, long may it last,’ Tiger said, echoing my thoughts. ‘Are you seeing your other families today?’ I swished my tail; I had told Tiger, but she had a terrible memory.

I had three families altogether. Claire and Jonathan’s was my main home, but also on Edgar Road lived Polly and Matt, Henry and Martha. Franceska, big Tomasz, Aleksy and little Tomasz (who now insisted on being called Tommy) lived a few streets away but I had met them on Edgar Road when I first moved here and they moved from Poland. Aleksy, being the oldest of the children, was my first child friend – he and I are still best friends actually.

‘Well Polly and Matt have gone to Manchester to spend Christmas with their parents and Tomasz and Franceska have gone to Poland. It’s very exciting for them; their first Christmas back there since they moved to England. I miss them but they’ll all be back before New Year. We’re all going to be together on New Year’s Eve in fact.’

‘Does that mean you get turkey again?’ Tiger’s eyes were wide with envy.

‘I hope so!’ I grinned. I hadn’t thought of that.

‘And have you heard from Tasha?’

‘We Skyped her yesterday.’ I was a cat of the computer age after all. Although it was Claire who’d actually called her on the computer, I’d sat on her lap so I could see her and Elijah.

Tasha was Claire’s best friend and one of mine. Her son Elijah was almost the same age as Summer. She had gone through a bad break-up with Elijah’s dad and lived on Edgar Road for a while, becoming another family for us. Then Claire did something called match-making with a friend of Jonathan’s called Max, which worked out a bit too well as she moved to somewhere called Dubai with him. He got a very good job there and she said she and Elijah needed a fresh start. I was happy for her, but sad for me. We missed them very much – Claire and me especially – so every week she calls them on the computer and we chat. They are all very happy, so although I miss them, I am pleased at the same time.

Saying goodbye is a fact of life. I have had to do so more than your average cat, so I should know. It doesn’t get any easier but you learn to accept that it’s necessary sometimes, I guess. It always hurts but there is nothing to be done. Life is like that, it moves all the time, it rarely stands still and so we have to move along with it. I am trying to teach George that, but it’s not an easy lesson to learn.

‘Right, well I better get this little one inside. Fancy a stroll later?’ I asked Tiger as I tried to get George’s attention. He was chasing his tail and totally ignoring me.

‘Yes, call round after lunch and we can go and see if anyone else is hanging out.’

‘You’re on.’ I nuzzled her goodbye and finally managed to get George to stand still long enough to tell him we were going home.

I was exhausted as I lay curled up on the armchair, resting. Claire and Jonathan were clearing up, and then I expected they would snuggle up on the sofa to watch a film or something. The children were in bed, exhausted after a day when their excitement levels knew no bounds and George was the same. He was sleeping with Toby, of course. I checked on them earlier and he was lying next to Toby on the pillow – they looked so cute together, I felt choked with emotion again. I looked in on Summer who was clutching one of her new toys to her as she slept. She looked angelic.

I was so full of lovely food, so I felt sleepy too. This really had been the best Christmas I’d ever had. I gave a thought for all of those I loved in my life: Margaret my first owner, Agnes my sister cat, all my cat friends, Snowball of course, and I also gave thanks for all I had now. I was the luckiest cat in London if not the world.

‘So, what’s this last surprise?’ I heard Jonathan ask. I opened one eye and saw that he and Claire had entered the room. Intrigued, I woke up properly, stretched out and went to join them on the sofa.

‘Here,’ Claire said, handing him a photograph. I peered at it over his shoulder. It was a picture of a house, a shabby-looking house. It was quite big though, I thought as I looked at the windows. In front of a large wooden front door stretched a lawn, which was overgrown, and the house was cream with peeling paint.

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve bought a house?’ Jonathan said, holding the picture, blinking at it in confusion.

‘No, of course not. I’ve been desperate to tell you but I got the idea that today, Christmas Day, would be the best time to surprise you.’

‘Surprise me with what exactly?’ Jonathan was suspicious but then I couldn’t blame him. Claire tended to spring things on him. And when he objected she would normally wear him down. It was the same with the adoption. She wanted to adopt so badly but Jonathan was reluctant, but she persuaded him, and of course he’s delighted she did as he loves having Toby, but you get the idea.

‘So you know we went to the funeral of my Great Aunt Claire, the woman I’m named after?’

‘Yes, Claire, that was about three months ago.’

‘I know, but it takes time, you know probate, but recently her estate was sorted out and it turns out she left me this cottage in Devon.’

‘She left that to you? A house?’ Jonathan looked again at the photo.

‘I had no idea she still owned it.’ Claire’s eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘You see we used to go there when I was a child for holidays but when Aunt Claire got dementia she went into a home, and I assumed that the house had been sold. But no, it was there, empty all this time. She probably forgot she owned it.’

‘How can someone forget they own a house?’ Jonathan frowned. I guess it was a big thing to forget.

‘Well she did have dementia remember, and her accountant took over her affairs, or whatever you call them … Anyway Dad told me that she wanted me to have the house because I loved it so much when I was young. It’s called Seabreeze Cottage and it’s right opposite the beach.’ Claire had a wistful look. ‘I remember the best holidays there as a child, spending days on the beach, playing on that lawn, eating jam sandwiches in the big old kitchen …’

‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ Jonathan narrowed his eyes.

‘Jon, we’ve been given a house, it doesn’t happen every day!’ Claire pushed and I knew there was a but.