A Friend Called Alfie. Rachel Wells

      The week after getting back from Devon, I developed post-holiday blues. Jonathan had to go straight back to work to start his new job. Overnight the relaxed – well for Jonathan anyway – holiday Jonathan was replaced by an even more stressed out one than usual. Claire had to get the children ready to start school again – buying uniforms, shoes and bags and organising clubs; it was a flurry of activity for everyone. But I felt flat, and although I got to see my other humans and cat friends, I still couldn’t quite shake the gloom.

      It didn’t help that London was greyer than Devon and I was feeling more than a little bit down in the dumps. I kept telling George that our grief over Tiger would get easier, but it wasn’t feeling that way at the moment. Seeing our cat friends on Edgar Road – Rocky, Elvis, Nellie, and even the sour-faced Salmon – couldn’t cheer me up. My paws felt heavy as I walked, although I knew I needed to snap out of it, I had no idea how. Being a cat wasn’t always as easy as people thought.

      I did, thankfully, have a bit of time to myself to try to let out my sadness, which I could only do alone. George was next door with his best friend Hana, a lovely cat who moved here from Japan last year. Hana was about the same age as George, and she was ‘Mikeneko’ which means she had a coat of three colours, in English, we would say Tortoiseshell. She was beautiful and sweet, one of the calmest cats I’d ever met – quite the opposite to my boy. I did wonder if George and Hana were more than friends, after all the boy was growing up. George could act a bit like a teenager when I asked him about Hana – he would shut me down pretty quickly, and say they were just good friends. His reluctance just made me want to know more …

      However, they did adore each other regardless of their relationship status, and they saw one another most days. Hana had been a house cat in Japan and didn’t go out, something that both horrified and fascinated me. Since being in London, we had managed to get her out a bit, but she preferred being indoors. It was her choice, and I understood that it took all sorts of cats to make the world go round.

      Hana lived next door to us with Sylvie and her teenage daughter Connie. Connie was the girlfriend of my first human child friend, Aleksy, who I had known almost from the first day I arrived at Edgar Road. I couldn’t believe he was a teenager now, my child friends were growing up fast. Aleksy and Connie had a sweet relationship, a lot of hand-holding and blushes. However, they were both clever children, and so I personally thought they were a good match.

      Also, Sylvie was now seeing one of our other friends, Marcus, which made her happy. I had to admit she was a bit unstable when she first moved here, and she had me a little worried. She’d been through a horrible divorce, so it was understandable. She was lonely and missing her home in Japan. I knew how hard starting over could be, after all, I had done it. But lately, she smiled a lot. Also, she always gave us fresh fish when we visited which obviously helped. We all met Marcus through his father, Harold, who happens to be one of George’s best human friends. George and I saved his life last year when he was ill, and since then he’s become part of our family.

      We know so many people, I know, it’s hard to keep track of them all, but that is what a doorstep cat does, and I’m very good at it if I do say so myself.

      Perhaps the reason I was feeling glum was because I was feeling a bit left out. Everyone was in love, or at least it seemed that way, apart from me, who had lost the only two cat women I had ever loved. Snowball, my first love moved away with her family a few years back, and you all know about Tiger. Goodness, I really was feeling sorry for myself.

      I didn’t usually wallow in self-indulgence, but today I was letting myself feel my feelings. So I curled up on Jonathan’s favourite cashmere blanket, which I am absolutely not allowed anywhere near, under any circumstances, and had a little therapeutic cat nap.

      George woke me, bounding up to me excitedly and then sitting on my tail. He was a little bit clumsy sometimes, my boy.

      ‘Hey,’ I said, stretching my paws out and yawning.

      ‘Claire just came home with Toby, Summer, Henry and Martha and said that Polly was coming round in a bit with a surprise for us all.’ His eyes were wide with excitement. ‘I think that includes us, Dad.’

      Since Jonathan had secured his big promotion, Claire had given up her part-time job so she could spend more time with the children. Polly worked irregular hours sometimes and Matt was quite busy, so Claire said she was a bit like their part-time nanny. Claire also looked after Harold, George’s old man friend who lived at the end of Edgar Road, Marcus’ father. She did his shopping and dropped in on him regularly making sure he ate a good lunch. Marcus lived with him and took care of him, but he had to work, and of course he also had Sylvie, so Claire helped out there a lot. She loved looking after people – and cats – and she was very good at it. Mind you, I think she learnt a lot of her skills from me.

      ‘A surprise, you say?’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘Do you think it’s food?’

      ‘I don’t know, but Claire said that Polly had sworn her to secrecy, the children are excited, and I’m hoping that it might be something for all of us, we should go downstairs so we don’t miss it.’ George hopped around excitedly, catching my tail yet again.

      ‘Yowl! George, you need to be more careful,’ I gently chastised. I knew he wouldn’t be, he never was. ‘Did you have a nice afternoon?’ I asked, thinking I may get to find out a little more about his feelings for Hana. ‘With Hana,’ I added.

      ‘Yes, I’ll tell you about it later, but come on, let’s go now otherwise we’ll never find out what this surprise is.

      ‘What on earth is that?’ George asked as eyes wide we stared at something wriggling in Polly’s arms.

      ‘I have never seen anything like it,’ I said. It was tiny. Smaller than George had been as a kitten. We all peered in, the thing was a light brown colour, with a dark brown snout and dark brown tips to his ears.

      ‘It’s a puppy!’ Martha shouted, going to her mum and trying to reach for it. George and I exchanged a glance. Surely not? They wouldn’t … Polly bent down.

      ‘Yes, it’s a puppy, but he’s very little, so we need to be gentle, and we also need to make sure that we don’t scare him