Рейчел Уэллс - A Friend Called Alfie

‘Shall we go inside?’ I said, feeling increasingly chilled in my fur.

‘Only if we can keep playing.’ He ran ahead and into the house.

I lay down and had forty winks, which I think was enough time for Pickles to hide and then I got up, stretched, and set off upstairs. I looked under Summer’s bed, but he wasn’t there. So much for George’s lesson. I went into Toby’s room, but there was no sign of him there. Same with Claire and Jonathan’s and I checked the bathroom too. I started to panic, but then I heard a gentle bark. Pickles’ bark wasn’t aggressive or scary, and I quite liked it. I followed the sound and found myself back in Toby’s room. Then I saw Pickles. He had somehow got up onto the top bunk of Toby’s bed. Oh no, I’m sure that George hadn’t taught him to go there. And also how did he get up there?

‘How did you get up there?’ I asked. Toby had a ladder to the top bunk, the ladder rungs were quite thick, more like steps really, but still, although George and I could get up easily, I wasn’t sure how that puppy had managed it with his short legs.

‘I climbed up,’ he announced proudly. ‘I went slowly, and it seems that my legs growed so it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either.’

‘Maybe you are getting better at climbing,’ I mused, although I worried that he could have fallen and hurt himself and that would have been my fault, so I didn’t want to encourage him. After all, I was the adult, and I was supposed to be in charge.

‘Yes, I really am. But I don’t know how to get down,’ he said. I looked and thought about it. I climbed up to join him. I didn’t like to go up there, although I had done a couple of times, because heights weren’t my favourite things, and this was higher than I found comfortable. ‘How about you watch me get down and try to copy,’ I suggested as I carefully reached the rungs and made my way down. I hoped the old adage would be right, if you can get up, then you can get down again. But my problem was the down bit. I tried to remain calm, hoping my legs didn’t tremble and give me away, but I didn’t like it at all.

Pickles came to the edge of the bed and stretched out a paw which didn’t reach the next rung down. He squealed, shot back and landed on his tail.

‘Ouch,’ he squealed. ‘I am not coming down, no way, that’s too scary.’ I sighed and tried to work out what to do. What were my options? I could go up again, but I wasn’t big enough to carry him down, which is the only thing I could think of. In fact, he would be more likely to carry me these days.

‘I thought George taught you to hide under beds?’ I asked.

‘Yes, he did but then I thought I would use my own ideas and try up here. I just didn’t think about how to get down again.’

‘Perhaps in future, you might not want to use your own ideas,’ I said, as I sat down to think. After drawing several blanks, I realised, the only way to get Pickles down was with the help of an adult.

‘You’ll have to wait there until Claire comes home,’ I said.

‘Will you stay with me because I’m scared,’ he said. My heart went out to him as his voice shook, and he appeared sad. He was still so young, and we all got in scrapes after all. I’d had my fair share over the years.

‘Of course, I will.’ I felt bad for him, I knew what it was like to be scared, it wasn’t pretty. ‘I’ll be right here,’ I reassured.

‘No, Alfie, can you wait with me up here?’

I had no choice as I climbed up the ladder again while we waited for Claire to come home. Pickles kept nestling closer to me, until he was practically on top of me. He might be a baby, but he was quite heavy as I tried to liberate my tail from underneath him.

‘I won’t have to be here forever, will I?’ he asked, in a smaller voice than normal.

‘No, Pickles, Claire will be back soon, and she’ll get you down, don’t worry,’ I reassured him as we settled down to wait, silently wishing we were back in the pile of leaves.

‘Stay there, I’ll be right back I promise,’ I said as soon as I heard the front door open after what felt like hours later.

‘But don’t be too long,’ he called after me as I made the treacherous journey down the bunk bed steps again.

‘Right, Alfie, I’ll make your lunch. Where’s George? Where’s Pickles?’ Claire asked as I greeted her. I brushed myself against Claire’s legs, yowled a lot and got her to follow me upstairs. When she saw Pickles on the bed, her face was a picture.

‘How on earth did you get up there?’ she asked. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. I blinked at her.

‘Woof,’ he replied. Thankfully, she climbed straight up and lifted him down, and I hoped that he had learnt another lesson, another thing to avoid. Looking after Pickles was turning my grey fur even greyer.

Over lunch, which Pickles devoured greedily, Claire phoned Jonathan and told him that there was still no news about Harold, but the doctors had thankfully ruled out anything life-threatening. It was a relief, and Claire cried, as she spoke. I went and sat with her. But I knew that I needed to tell George because he needed this update more than anyone.

I cleaned myself up to go out.

‘Where are you going?’ Pickles asked.

‘To find George,’ I replied.

‘Can I come with you?’ he asked.

‘No, Pickles, you need to stay with Claire, after all, you’re not allowed out of the garden on your own.’

‘But I wouldn’t be on my own, I’d be with you.’

‘I mean without a human adult,’ I clarified.

‘There are far too many rules for me to keep track of,’ Pickles huffed.

I was out of the cat flap and by the back gate before I realised that Pickles had defied me by following me.

‘Pickles, you need to go back.’

‘I’m coming with you. I want to see George,’ he whined.

‘But Claire will worry if she can’t find you and we really don’t need any more stress,’ I tried to reason, but reasoning with a puppy, it’s not easy.

‘We’ll be back before she even notices,’ he persisted.

I was faced with a dilemma. I needed to find George, to give him the news, and I didn’t want to take Pickles, but if I went home, then I would have to try to sneak out again without him noticing, which I wasn’t sure I could. I had made a promise to George that as soon as there was news I would deliver it, come what may. Or should I say, come what Pickles?

I hoped I wasn’t going to regret this, and I decided I would just go for it. I slid under the gate with ease and stood on the other side. Within seconds Pickles appeared. I groaned, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Maybe, just maybe I could get back before anyone noticed? I crossed my paws and carried on. After all, we were just popping next door. What could go wrong?

‘See, I am just like a cat,’ he said with a grin on his very dog-like face.

‘Oh God, this isn’t going to end well,’ I sighed as I made my way to Hana’s house. I slid through the cat flap and Pickles followed me, although it took him a bit longer, as it was a slightly different set-up to what he was used to. We found Hana and George in the living room.

‘What on earth is that?’ Hana asked as Pickles bounded in, wagging his bottom.

‘That is Pickles. What is he doing here?’ George replied.

‘Hey, guys, do you want to play ball?’ Pickles asked. Hana and George exchanged withering looks.

‘Sorry, George, Claire just spoke to Jonathan about Harold. He is out of danger, stable but they just need to do some more tests, but the good news is that they have ruled out anything serious.’

‘Oh that is good news. Why is your face like that?’ Hana asked, still studying Pickles.

‘It just is,’ George replied. ‘So when will Harold be home?’ George asked.