A Friend Called Alfie. Rachel Wells

intently.

      ‘But if I can’t climb a tree then I’ll never be a cat.’

      ‘Pickles, you’re a puppy who will grow up to be a dog, not a cat,’ I said gently.

      ‘But cats are best, George said so, so if I do everything he teaches me, I can grow up to be a cat.’ Pickles turned to look at me, his eyes full of hope. What on earth could I say? I turned to look at George.

      ‘I really need to go and see Hana,’ he said as he ran off.

      ‘How about we go inside, and I’ll teach you how to have a lovely rest,’ I suggested.

      ‘Do cats do that?’ he asked.

      ‘Of course, it’s one of the things we do best.’ With no idea what we were getting into with Pickles, I ushered him back through the cat flap and into the house. Thankfully, our sofa was low enough for Pickles to jump on, so I led him there, jumped up and gestured for him to do the same. He wriggled around a bit on the sofa cushion, his little paws padding up and down. Then he chose a spot and licked a cushion before sitting on it. I didn’t really understand dog behaviour, but then I had no experience. Give me a human or a cat any day.

      ‘So, lie down, and then we can both close our eyes and have a rest. That’s very good cat behaviour.’ I felt guilty for using George’s naughty plan, but then I was quite tired, I’d already done quite a lot of thinking today.

      ‘OK.’ He lay down, resting his head on his paws and before long he was snoring quite loudly. When I was sure he was asleep, I thought I could steal a few minutes away.

      I left through the cat flap, went as fast as I could next door and round to the back of Sylvie’s house. At the back were patio doors. I couldn’t go in, because there was no way George could know I was there, he would kill me. But it wasn’t actually spying, I was only doing what a good parent would do.

      I positioned myself in a bush near the doors, and I craned my neck and glanced through. Hana was lying on the floor in a sunny spot, and George was sitting next to her. I could see they were chatting, but of course, I couldn’t hear or see what they were talking about.

      This brought back memories. When my first girlfriend Snowball moved in here I used to spend hours by the back door trying to get her attention. She accused me of stalking her once. But in the end, I did get her attention. OK, so it might have involved a near death experience, the fire brigade and a ruined flowerbed but that’s another story.

      I tried to move a little closer, trying to balance on the bush to lift me a bit. However, my paw slipped, and I ended up falling through the middle, onto some soft soil. I got up, brushed my fur off, and feeling a little silly I snuck another look. Although George and Hana definitely seemed close, it was still inconclusive. I went home, none the wiser.

      I got home, thankfully before Pickles woke up. I snuggled next to him, so he would wake and think I’d been there all along. I was so tired I almost fell asleep when a wet nose touched my cheek. I stretched, wishing that I had another forty winks.

      ‘That was a nice rest, but now I want to play,’ Pickles said.

      ‘What do you want to play?’ I asked. This was bringing back memories, memories of George as a tiny kitten, always wanting to do something.

      ‘I don’t know, the only games I know are the ones George taught me.’ He looked thoughtful.

      ‘Did he teach you to play hide and seek?’ I asked.

      ‘No, can we play that?’ He started wagging his tail and wiggling his bottom simultaneously.

      ‘Yes, what happens is that I count to a certain number—’

      ‘What’s count?’

      ‘Don’t worry, we’ll teach you one day. Anyway,’ I continued, ‘I count and you hide somewhere, and then I come and find you.’

      ‘Wowee that sounds like fun.’ Pickles was so excited he forgot where he was and fell off the sofa, landing on his back.

      ‘Are you alright?’ I asked; puppy-sitting was hard work.

      ‘Yes, fine.’ He bounced up. ‘Right I’m going to be the best hider ever.’

      I lay down and pretended to count for as long as I thought I could get away with. George had always loved hide and seek, and it was my favourite game because it gave me a few moments of peace while I counted. Top parenting tip for you.

      Finally, I had to go and find Pickles. I padded through the hall and then into the kitchen. He was sat on the floor with his head in a cereal box. Although I could see his body, it wasn’t a bad hiding place, actually.

      ‘Found you,’ I said, approaching.

      ‘Hmmph.’ A vague sound came from the box.

      ‘You can take the box off now, I’ve found you,’ I said, edging closer to try to hear him.

      ‘I’m stuck,’ he replied, his voice still muffled. The next thing I knew he was running round in circles, cereal crumbs falling onto his fur and the floor before he bumped into a cupboard door. ‘Ow,’ he cried.

      I sighed. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was a cat, after all, and I had paws, which meant I wasn’t sure how I could get the box off.

      ‘Calm down, Pickles. Right, lie down, and I’ll see if I can grab the box,’ I commanded. He lay down, still wiggling. He did look funny. I tried to grip the box with my paws but they just slid off. Pickles was really quite stuck. I began to panic. I was the worst puppy-sitter ever. George had got into quite a few scrapes as a kitten: stuck in bags, boxes, and various cupboards, but I could deal with cat scrapes. Puppy scrapes were a whole different ball game.

      ‘I can’t live in this box forever,’ Pickles said, sadly, and I redoubled my efforts, but it really wasn’t budging. Thankfully I heard the door open and in walked Claire. I sat up and looked at her, my eyes full of guilt.

      ‘What on earth?’ Claire pulled the box off Pickles and picked him up. He was covered in cereal.

      ‘Meow,’ I said, it wasn’t my fault.

      ‘Oh goodness, I better clean this mess up. I guess puppies can be hard to look after,’ Claire said, gently, holding Pickles in one arm and petting me with the other, to show she wasn’t angry.

      ‘Meow,’ I agreed, relieved.

      ‘Right, well, Pickles, stay in there, while I get this cleared up.’ She brushed the cereal from his fur and set him down in his bed. I went over to him.

      ‘Not the best hiding place after all, then, Pickles,’ I said.

      ‘Oh, I wasn’t hiding. I was going to find somewhere to hide then I spotted the cereal box on the floor.’ Why was it on the floor? I wondered. One of the children I guessed.

      ‘So, what were you doing?’

      ‘I wanted to have a snack, so I got the box on its side and then I went in to get my snack, and I somehow got stuck.’

      Of course he did.

      ‘But it was quite delicious,’ he finished. ‘But next time I’ll have to find an easier way to get it.’

      Claire took Pickles with her while she cleaned the house, saying it was the only way she could keep him out of trouble. I wasn’t sorry, as I went out and bumped into George who was coming from Hana’s house.

      ‘Hi, son,’ I said, happy to see him. ‘What have you been up to?’ As if I didn’t know.