Рейчел Уэллс - Alfie The Holiday Cat

‘Is it Christmas?’ he asked.

‘It is, darling,’ Claire replied. ‘Now shall we go and see if Santa’s been?’ She kissed him and engulfed him in a hug.

‘But what if he hasn’t?’ Toby asked.

‘I know he has, and do you know how I know that?’ Claire asked. Toby shook his head. ‘Because I have it on good authority that you were on his good boy list,’ she said gently. She was such a good parent, to all of us.

‘Really?’

She nodded, then picked him up and carried him downstairs.

Summer had already bounded ahead with Jonathan trying to hold her back as she rushed to open the living room door. George had almost flown down after them and I trotted behind Claire and Toby.

I was trying and failing to restrain George. The run-up to Christmas was exhausting for parents, I had heard that before, but this year I experienced it first-hand. George, as well as being full of excitement, loved the shiny baubles on the Christmas tree. He liked to look at his reflection in them — no idea where he gets his vanity from — trying to use his paw to get them off the tree, and on occasion he succeeded. He had been told off many times by Claire, Jonathan and me for playing with them, and there had been breakages. He also liked to try to hide under the tree, jumping out to surprise us, which had meant that the tree had been relieved of a few of its branches and quite a lot of pine needles. (By the way, having to get the pine needles out of George’s fur had been pretty much a festive full-time job.) Jonathan moaned about the mess, Claire complained about the broken baubles, and I had possibly lost enough of my lives with the shock of having him jump out at me on numerous occasions. There was nothing we could do to stop it, however, except keep a close eye on him, keep the living room door closed and Claire had moved his favourite mirrored baubles higher up the tree.

Jonathan stood at the door. We all crowded around.

‘I should check that Santa really has been,’ he said. He opened the door a crack and George skirted through — honestly there was no keeping him back once he saw the tree. I noticed that Jonathan switched the Christmas tree lights on before fully opening the door and, as they winked and twinkled, we all made our way into the living room where a mountain of presents waited.

Before the children could dive in we all stopped.

‘George!’ Claire shouted. George, it seemed, had spotted the mirrored baubles straight away and launched himself at the tree, jumping about half way up. It seemed to play out in slow motion as he yowled, having not thought it out, and ended up clinging to some of the branches. He had got his paw tangled in the lights and the bauble that he had been after fell to the floor with a thump, eliciting another cry. As the tree began to lean to the left, it looked as if it might fall. I didn’t know what to do as I stared on in horror.

‘Yowl!’ George shouted.

‘Daddy, do something,’ Summer cried. Jonathan sprang into action, grabbing the tree and pushing it back upright. Claire batted her way through the piles of presents to secure it again, emerging looking a little dishevelled with pine needles in her hair. And as I meowed anxiously for George to let go, he did, managing to disentangle his paws from the lights and falling into Toby’s arms. Toby appeared surprised as he caught him, and then as George nuzzled him to say thank you he smiled.

‘Oh George,’ he said.

We’d been hearing that a lot since the kitten had become part of the family.

I looked at Jonathan. I was ready for him unleash his anger, using words unsuitable for children or cats, but instead he grinned.

‘It wouldn’t be Christmas without a near disaster,’ he said. ‘Nice catch Tobe.’ Claire hugged him. Relief flooded me, from my paws to the tips of my whiskers.

‘Right, kids, presents.’

Summer instantly dived into her pile. Toby hung back a bit, but Jonathan took his hand.

‘Shall we go and see what Santa got you?’ he asked. Toby nodded. Shock graced his face, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. He probably hadn’t. Neither had George, who was now playing with the wrapping paper that Summer discarded as if it was the best present in the world and as if he hadn’t just nearly ruined our beautiful tree. I turned my head to Claire. She had tears in her eyes as she pulled out her phone and took pictures of the children, my kitten and Jonathan by the Christmas tree. I felt emotional as well as I went and rubbed against her legs.

‘Oh, Alfie, this is the best Christmas ever,’ Claire said as she picked me up. I blinked at her and purred my agreement.

‘I really need coffee,’ Jonathan said, as the children took a break from present-opening.

‘Mummy, Daddy, I love Peppa Pig,’ Summer announced as she played with her Peppa Pig playhouse. Toby was playing with a remote control car, exclaiming that it was the best present in the whole world. Jonathan went and put his arm around Claire.

‘This is such a whirl, I’m exhausted. But I’ll make us coffee and then I’ll give you your gift.’ He kissed her.

‘What about George and Alfie? Can we give them their presents first?’ Claire said.

‘Oh yes, come on, boys, we’ve got a special Christmas breakfast for you.’

I really hoped it was pilchards.

As George and I tucked into our pilchards — they were big juicy ones from the fishmonger — we enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet.

‘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.