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Chapter Nine

I went through my mental checklist alone in the garden before Pickles would inevitably break through the cat flap again. It was October already, time was passing, and winter was creeping ever closer. I did prefer the warm weather, not least because I had an old leg injury, which flared up more in the winter. Anyway, I wasn’t going to dwell on that. I was going to make the best of things, which is what this cat always did.

My chaperoning skills were going to be essential today because George hadn’t been able to visit Hana for a couple of days. Knowing how happy they made each other, I knew he needed to do that. After Claire dropped the children at school, she’d be home most of today, so it wasn’t as if I would be in sole charge of Pickles, thankfully.

Marcus took Harold to somewhere called a ‘Senior Centre’, a place where he could socialise with other old people, most of whom he claimed not to like, so I really had no idea why he went. But with a day to herself, Claire would clean the house, do the laundry, tidy all the children’s rooms, and change all the bedding – it was quite exhausting to watch. When she’d finished that she would then sit down with a well-deserved cup of coffee and her book – and hopefully me, before going to pick the children up from school. It wasn’t easy being a housewife, which I believe is her official job title. It was hard to see how anyone could have an outside job, and look after a house and children once you’d seen Claire in action.

Claire used to love working, she’d had a good job in marketing, but after she had Summer, she lost a bit of her ambition. Then when Toby came to live with us, she felt the children were her priority. It turned out she loved being a mum more than anything, and she was lucky, with Jonathan’s job and the fact she was very sensible with money, she was able to devote herself to doing what she loved. Also, I was unsure how we would cope if Claire and Jonathan both worked as we all needed a lot of taking care of. Not to mention what would happen to Pickles after all. I like to think it was seeing me taking care of those I cared about that made Claire realise it was what she wanted to do. And we were both quite good at it.

Back to my checklist. All my humans were doing well at the moment, I thought, as I ran through them one by one. The children were happy and not arguing with each other, and of course, having Pickles had perked them up the way George had when he first came to live with us. Aleksy and Connie were happy and perhaps the most sensible teenagers the world had ever seen. And the adults were not causing me problems for once. We were all happy and harmonious on Edgar Road, including my extended families in the neighbourhood of course. Even Pickles.

Then there were the cats. Luckily my lovely friends were all fine; having lost Tiger I did fret about the other cats a bit, but they all seemed in good health. Dustbin’s new girlfriend was definitely an interesting turn up for the books. George was coping; even though he still missed Tiger, but we were dealing with that. It would take a lot of time to heal. It became more important to me to understand what was actually going on with Hana and him. It wasn’t just out of noisiness, but concern. Or that’s my story, and I am sticking to it.

Life was calm, and I just crossed my paws that the turmoil of last year was long behind us. Not that having Pickles was particularly calm, but you know what I mean.

The cat flap bashed, and George sprang through it, followed at a more leisurely pace by Pickles.

‘Hello, Alfie,’ he said, as he stood on the grass then he bent down to lick it. He was actually very cute, even his wrinkly face seemed adorable to me now.

‘Pickles, how are you?’ I asked.

‘I am very well. I was a bit sick this morning, but Polly said it was because I wasn’t supposed to eat the children’s breakfast – Henry fed me some off his plate, so he’s in a bit of trouble but how am I to know?’

‘It’s hard, I agree. Pickles, the general rule of thumb is that if it’s in your food bowl, then it’s yours. If it’s not, then it isn’t,’ I explained.

‘No, that seems far too hard to remember.’ His wrinkled face wrinkled even more. ‘I think I’ll just have to take my chances.’

‘See what I mean?’ George hissed. ‘Pickles, show my dad how you climb trees.’

‘Yes, yes, I will.’ We watched as Pickles approached a tree in the garden, and started trying to climb its trunk. It was fruitless, his front legs slid off the bark as soon as he moved them. Then he decided he’d try to jump, but he couldn’t jump very high yet, and landed with a bump. Yet again I had to intervene.

‘Maybe tree climbing isn’t going to be your thing. After all, I’m not keen either,’ I said. George was studying his paws 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.

‘Just talking to Hana. What about you?’

I told him about Pickles and the cereal.

‘When I was young I didn’t do stuff like that,’ George tutted.

‘Well, you nearly drowned, got stuck in lots of cupboards, were catnapped, and that’s just for starters,’ I pointed out, although technically the catnapping was my fault.

I had come up with a plan to solve a little scrape my human owner was in by pretending to lose George, and hiding him in Tiger’s shed. But he ended up being catnapped, and it was the worst time of my entire life until I found him. The plan did work eventually, it did bring us all together, but I learned a big lesson and would never put my kitten in the slightest risk ever again.

‘OK, fair enough, but now I’m a big cat, things have changed,’ he said. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

‘Yes, come on, then.’ We started off towards the end of the street.

‘You know about me being a big cat,’ George said as we strolled.

‘Yes?’ I asked. Clearly, he wanted to talk to me about something.

‘What is my job?’

‘What do you mean your job?’ I asked.

‘My job, you know Hana was telling me how Connie and Aleksy were talking all the time about what they were going to do when they were grown-ups. Well, I’m pretty much a grown-up now, and I don’t have a job.’

‘We’re cats, George, I don’t have a job either.’

‘But you do, I mean you don’t have an office like Jonathan, but like Claire, you take care of all of us, that’s your job the way it is hers, so what’s mine?’

‘Being a big cousin to Pickles is a job of sorts then,’ I explained.

‘Yeah, maybe it’s a bit of a job, but it’s not my cat calling. I need to find my purpose in life.’

‘Your purpose in life?’

‘You take care of people and Dustbin has a job taking care of the rodents, so I need to find my life purpose.’ He was getting frustrated.

‘I guess you have a point.’ I wasn’t sure that George needed a job, after all, I had kind of stumbled into my role. And I had no training for it, not to mention that the pay was terrible apart from the odd pilchard. But he sounded so serious about this, I had to give him my support.

‘Yes, I might be a cat, but I’m not an ordinary cat, so therefore I need to find my purpose. What I am supposed to do to make the world a better place.’

‘Wow, well when you put it like that, George, I guess, like me, your vocation will be to do the same as me.’

‘I thought that but I need to find my own path in life, I can’t just jump onto yours.’

‘George, what on earth are you talking about?’ I was bewildered.

‘It’s what Aleksy said. He is going to get a job working in a different restaurant and learn the hard way before joining the family business because otherwise, it will be too easy for him. Nepotism it’s called. Hana told me, she’s very clever. So I need to find my own job rather than take the easy route by following you.’

‘George, you are a very clever cat, although you’ll always be my kitten, so you can do whatever it is you put your mind to, but if you want any advice, you know where I am.’ I crossed my paws that he would give me a bit of time before asking for my advice because I had no idea what to tell him. I was still trying to get my head around the concept of nepotism, which I’d never even heard of.

‘Thanks, Dad, but as Aleksy told Connie and Hana, sometimes when you are growing up, you need to do things yourself for yourself. It’s how you build character. So that’s what I am going to do. I am going to make you proud of me.’

I couldn’t argue with that.

‘I’m so proud of you already, George,’ I said, feeling emotional. My boy was growing up so fast, like Aleksy, who was also my boy and all of the children. I could see why Polly was so keen to get Pickles, keeping a baby in the family. Although after this morning I was pretty sure there had to be easier ways.

‘I am going to be an amazing career cat, just as soon as I figure out what I am going to do with my life,’ he announced, and I couldn’t reply because I felt both choked up with pride and also a little amused. There weren’t exactly a million jobs for cats, after all. But then if anyone could find something to do, it was George. I would help him in any way I could because that was what a parent did. And that was a job in itself, after all.