kindness was the most important thing we could do for one another.
‘Alright, Dad, in this case, I will do so but also if he does turn out to be the way you say dogs can be I can’t guarantee that I’ll be nice to him forever.’
‘That sounds reasonable and fair, George,’ I said. I hoped this puppy might prove me wrong about dogs. I’m not sure I felt that optimistic, though. But even I, faced with one of my long-held views, was questioning myself.
Claire came into the kitchen, clutching the puppy to her chest. He was tiny and had quite short legs. Even though I wasn’t sure how big he would grow to be, I desperately hoped he wouldn’t grow too big. Big dogs definitely scared me if they got too close.
‘Alfie, George, come and meet our new friend,’ she said, gently, moving towards us and kneeling down.
George and I exchanged glances as we tentatively moved nearer. I had never seen a dog like this up close before. He was calmer now and, as we peered at him, the little dog put his tongue out and licked his nose. Then he seemed to focus on us, with his big eyes, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Just then he gave a little wag of his short tail which sort of stuck to his bottom.
‘Oh goodness, he already likes you!’ Claire exclaimed. ‘Welcome to the family, and Alfie, George, it’s time for you to formally meet Pickles. The children voted and this name, which was Polly’s idea, actually won.’
Really? Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Pickles? What kind of name was that? Even for a dog.
It was Monday, our first day alone with Pickles the pug. We’d locked eyes with him a lot, but not one of the children let him out of their sight. They really did seem to adore him, which put George’s nose out of joint a bit. Being usurped by a dog was pretty low.
Claire had given us a bit of a lecture this morning, because Pickles was coming to our house and would be left alone with us while Claire took the children to school. She wasn’t ready to take him on the school run, but said she would be doing so when he was a bit bigger. What this had to do with us, I had no idea, but we listened. Or I did, George was cleaning his paws and sulking.
She went on to share that our new ‘friend’ Pickles was two months old. He was supposed to go to a family, but something happened, and they couldn’t have him at the last minute. Someone Polly worked with asked her if she knew anyone who wanted an adorable pug puppy, and Polly knew Matt had always wanted one. I was still coming to terms with the fact the children had been asking for a puppy (how dare they?), as it would also mean they had a pet who lived with them. I suppose, we visited often but didn’t live there, so Polly and Matt decided we all had a share in a puppy. Hmm.
Not one to keep things succinct, Claire told us that Pickles was allowed outside, because he had been to the vet. Apparently, he’d had the right injections, but he mustn’t go out on his own because he was a dog, not a cat. Not that we needed reminding of that. So, she was asking us to stay in with Pickles until she got back from the school run, rather than go into the garden or for our usual early morning walk. Torture for a doorstep cat. Finally, she finished talking just as the doorbell went and we opened it to find Polly, Henry and Martha stood on our doorstep. Henry was holding Pickles.
Polly rushed off as she was running late, the children all crowded around Pickles in the hallway, fussing him. George looked at me.
‘Is he going to take all the attention off me forever?’ George sounded horrified.
‘Of course not, he’s a novelty right now but what do I always tell you? There’s enough love to go round.’
‘Um, maybe, but I am so much cuter than him.’ George stomped his paw.
‘Of course you are, George.’
George was so used to being the centre of attention, and now there was a new pet on the block. This might not be as straightforward as I thought. Actually, I never thought it would be straightforward, but this was threatening to be more of a nightmare than I imagined.
‘Hello,’ I said, unsure if he would be able to understand me when George, Pickles and I were finally alone.
‘Are you my new friends?’ Pickles asked.
‘Yes, I suppose we are your new friends,’ I replied. He sounded young, and if I was honest, when he looked at me with his big eyes, he was quite adorable. But George was still sulking, I’m not sure he agreed.
‘I’m happy to meet you both,’ Pickles said. ‘It’s scary living with a new family, but everyone seems so nice,’ he mouthed, as he ran around in a circle. Why can’t puppies stay still?
‘What are you doing?’ George asked, scowling in Pickles’ direction.
‘I’m trying to catch my tail,’ Pickles replied.
He might get smarter as he got older, I thought, and tried to convey this to George through my glare.
‘So are you settling in well?’ I asked. It still felt a bit awkward, although it was easier to talk to him now he was no longer running in circles.
‘Yes, I cried a bit last night because I felt lonely. Henry convinced Polly that I could sleep on his bed, so I snuggled up to him, and that wasn’t quite so bad.’
‘You like to talk,’ George pointed out.
‘Be nice,’ I whispered to George.
‘Welcome to Edgar Road,’ George said, not exactly sounding welcoming.
‘And we both arrived here on our own at different points. So you know, if you feel a bit down, you can talk to us,’ I said, more kindly.
‘Thank you, I think I’m going to like it here,’ Pickles said. Then he sat down and smiled at us with his wrinkly face.
‘Dad, can I go out?’ George asked.
‘We’re supposed to be looking after Pickles,’ I pointed out.
‘But I told Hana I’d go and see her this morning.’ Although Hana didn’t go out much, she had a cat flap, so George visited her regularly, as did I sometimes. I didn’t want to force him to stay and help me with Pickles as he’d probably end up resenting me for it, so I thought I’d be best off letting him go. Although, I would have liked to go out …
‘OK, I can take care of Pickles, but you need to get used to him because he’s going to be here a lot,’ I whispered to George, as we moved towards the back door.
‘Fine, and I will be nice, but now I would rather be with my actual friend.’ George sounded a bit surly; he was still a little put out at how the children ignored him as soon as Pickles arrived on the scene. It was jealousy, something that siblings often suffered from. Goodness, get me I was already thinking of him as if he was part of the family, which was very magnanimous of me if I did say so myself.
‘But give Pickles a
