A Cat Called Alfie. Rachel Wells

purred in greeting. Aleksy picked me up and I nestled into his neck. Little Tomasz stroked me and I purred at him to let him know how pleased I was to see him as well.

      ‘Right, boys, let’s go in, including you, Alfie,’ Franceska, the boys’ mum said, leaning down to stroke me. Franceska was a lovely calm lady and had worked very hard to help her family settle in England. Although she had served in a shop for a while, she now worked with her husband, big Tomasz, in his restaurant when her boys were at school. I had never been there, it was quite far from Edgar Road for a cat to venture, but I had heard from my families that it was pretty good, popular and they were doing well. I actually wished I could go and visit them, just to see where they lived. The family now lived in a flat over the restaurant and I missed them. When they lived on Edgar Road, I used to see Aleksy almost every day and now we only saw each other once a week.

      We were all in Polly’s warm front room. Martha was holding onto the dark blue sofa – she was learning to walk. I had learnt that whilst cats walk from birth, it takes humans longer, which is another thing that makes me wonder why they say that humans are cleverer than cats. I can think of many reasons why it’s the other way round, and not just the walking thing.

      Henry and Tomasz immediately started playing with Henry’s train set. Tomasz was older than Henry but they played together well. I know Aleksy often said that he was too big to play with the younger boys but I could sometimes tell that he wished he could join in. Instead he played with me. He always kept toys for me and brought them over when he came. He took them out of his backpack now and although I often felt such playing was a bit beneath me, at six cat years, I indulged him and let him dangle a fake mouse, roll a ball and I even chased the ribbons and bells. It amused Martha anyway, who was trying to balance and grab my tail at the same time. I dodged easily, but knew if she kept trying it wouldn’t end well for her.

      When Polly and Franceska returned from the kitchen, they had a tray with hot drinks for the grown-ups, squash for the children and a plate of biscuits. Immediately the boys descended on the biscuits.

      ‘Only one each,’ Franceska said, but I saw Aleksy take two with a grin.

      Polly picked up Martha to give her a bottle of milk and when I miaowed, to say that I felt left out, Polly grinned.

      ‘Frankie, can you get Alfie some milk? He obviously wants a snack too.’ I followed Franceska to the kitchen and lapped up the milk when it was presented to me. Aleksy followed me in and we found ourselves alone. The kitchen had a small round table and four chairs on one side, in the dining area, and was fitted with grey wooden cupboards on the other. I don’t know much about interior design being a cat and only having a basket to call my own, but Polly definitely had a flair, because her home looked a bit like she did, as if it came from one of those glossy magazines that Claire liked to read. In fact, Claire was talking about getting her to help redecorate our house.

      ‘I miss you, Alfie,’ Aleksy said as I finished my milk. I looked at him, as I cleaned myself up, trying to read his eyes and my heart sank. I could see it, sadness in his little face, and it caused me physical pain. I was always greatly affected by the emotions of my humans but the children, especially Aleksy, were the worst. I rubbed myself against his legs to tell him I missed him too. ‘Sometimes I think we should still live here when I could see you every day,’ he said. I purred in concurrence.

      ‘Aleksy.’ Tomasz ran into the kitchen like the whirlwind he was. Aleksy was the sensitive child whereas little Tomasz was more physical.

      ‘What, Tommy?’ Aleksy asked.

      ‘Claire is here and she bought us a present.’ Tomasz shook with excitement and Aleksy’s eyes lit up as he ran into the living room.

      Whatever was bothering Aleksy would obviously have to wait.

      ‘Alfie.’ Claire scooped me up. ‘I was looking for you. I swear this cat is still as elusive as ever, I sometimes wonder if he’s found other homes.’

      ‘Surely not?’ Franceska said.

      ‘Well, he’s always out and about. Who knows? He stays with us most nights but …’

      ‘Well he visits us most days,’ Polly pointed out.

      I miaowed loudly. I might be curious about the residents moving into the new house, but I knew who my families were.

      As I snuggled on Franceska’s lap I surveyed the living room with a swelling heart. The boys were all playing a game that Claire had bought them. Martha had fallen asleep, curled up beside Polly on the sofa, her chubby legs sticking out from a blanket. Claire was animated, Franceska stroked me as she listened and chatted, and Polly was smiling. I was such a lucky cat, I really was. My last thought, as like Martha, I took my nap, was how happy I felt to see love, happiness and my families in that room.

       - CHAPTER -

       Four

      I was washing myself in the kitchen after breakfast when the cat flap clanged and Tiger breathlessly appeared. We often went into each other’s homes, but we had to be careful that our owners didn’t catch us as they could be a bit mean to uninvited cats. But Tiger knew that Jonathan and Claire were at work on a weekday, so she was safe.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Tiger asked. She sounded excited.

      ‘I was about to go to Polly’s. She normally takes a walk to the park, so I thought I might tag along.’

      ‘Well, you might want to come with me instead.’ She made it sound like a command rather than an invitation.

      I followed her out. She jumped onto the fence in the back garden, then stopped and looked at me.

      ‘Are you OK to jump today?’ I looked back at her. My leg was feeling fine today, and I told Tiger so as I followed her.

      I had been injured a couple of years ago, when Claire’s ex-boyfriend had attacked me. Although my back leg was all right now, some days it hurt more than others, and I knew better than to jump too much in general. It reminded me of what I had been through; like a deep-rooted scar. I’d been lucky to survive but I didn’t want to think about that right now.

      More important things were a-paw.

      I still didn’t know what was going on until Tiger led me into the back garden of number 48, to the patio doors where we could see into the house. We were staring at a kitchen/dining room like Jonathan and Claire’s. And today, we could see that the boxes had been unpacked.

      ‘I didn’t see any people yesterday, did they come this morning?’ I asked.

      ‘No, which is why I had to come and find you. I got up really early, and when I walked past the front of the house I saw that the living room boxes had been unpacked. I checked around before coming to see you but there’s no sign of any humans.’

      Tiger used to do very little with her time before we became friends. Previously, I had often accused her of being a lazy cat. She had middle-aged owners who indulged her, and who didn’t have children so she was spoilt and liked her home comforts. Not that I could blame her for that, as I too used to be a lap cat when I lived with my first owner. However, my good influence was clearly rubbing off on her and since we’d been friends, she had become a bit more adventurous.

      ‘Let’s see if we can find the others and see if they know anything,’ I suggested. So we ran to the end of the street where we found some of our friends hanging out.

      When I was attacked by Claire’s ex-boyfriend Joe, Tiger had told all the other cats how I had provoked Joe in order to save Claire from a relationship with him; a man who turned out to be a horrible bully. My plan worked a treat, despite the fact I nearly died, but after I recovered I found myself a bit of a hero among the local cats. Even Tom, who could be quite mean, showed me a grudging respect and no longer tried to fight me. I finally had cat friends who were ready