A Friend Called Alfie. Rachel Wells

      There was something about the Devon air, which felt so different from Edgar Road, where we lived most of the time in London. As the sea breeze whipped through my fur; it soothed and chilled me at the same time. It had been a very stressful time lately, and for my kitten George – who would probably argue that he was no longer a kitten but a proper cat – so we were enjoying a well-deserved holiday and a much-needed change of scene.

      We were on a two week holiday at my human family’s holiday home, Seabreeze Cottage, in Lynstow, Devon. The human family consisted of Claire, Jonathan, and their children Toby and Summer. Not forgetting our cat family; my cat son, George, and Gilbert, who lived full time at Seabreeze Cottage – Gilbert had been there before us and had become one of our closest friends. Although we didn’t get to see him as often as we’d like, we always had fun whenever we were together. Gilbert was more independent than George and me, having fended for himself for years before we met him. If I’m honest, George and me are pampered cats, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

      It hasn’t always been that way, there was a time when I was homeless for a while, and I had to fend for myself. My first human owner, Margaret, died when I was a young cat, leaving me heartbroken and alone. I became a doorstep cat – a cat with different homes and owners – which comes with many benefits, I can assure you, but more of that later. Thankfully, after some time on the streets, I found my way to Edgar Road, where I met my current human families. George came to live with my main human family as a kitten, having never had to fend for himself. He’s a lot more spoilt than me, but he’s kind-hearted, and I love him more than all the pilchards in the world.

      We’ve had a rough year, my George and I. My girlfriend – the cat who George thought of as his mum – Tiger, had fallen ill and passed away before Christmas. We’re still grieving her if I’m honest. I don’t think you ever stop missing those you love, and I have loved and lost a lot in my life. But as a doorstep cat, with multiple humans in my life – Claire and Jonathan and their children Toby and Summer, Polly and Matt and their children Henry and Martha, Franceska and Tomasz and their children Aleksy and Tommy. You’ll met my other humans soon enough.

      Although this year was unfortunate in many ways, one thing we learnt was that life carries on regardless of the sadness you hold in your heart, and we had to carry on with it.

      ‘I know, why don’t we go to the sand dunes?’ George suggested.

      ‘Last one there’s a dog,’ Gilbert, who had joined us on the beach, shouted, taking off, we followed him, hot on his paws. I was breathless as I made it just a fraction later than George and Gilbert.

      ‘Don’t call me a dog,’ I warned, narrowing my eyes and they both laughed.

      ‘I’m going to slide down on my bottom,’ George said, the carefree sound of his voice made me so happy. He wriggled onto his bottom and tried to slide down the sand, the problem was that sand isn’t very slippery, it’s grainy, and it sticks to fur like glue. I went to try to give George a gentle push with my paw, but I tripped over his tail and landed with a bump almost on top of him.

      ‘Yowl,’ I cried.

      ‘Dad,’ he chastised as we both started rolling down, and although it was a little bit scary, we got to the bottom in one piece.

      ‘That was so much fun, Dad,’ George said, reminding me that maybe he was growing up fast, but he was still a kitten, my kitten, in so many ways. ‘Can we do it again?’

      ‘Let me catch my breath,’ I pleaded, I certainly wasn’t a kitten in any way anymore, but I would do anything for my boy.

      ‘Come on, George,’ Gilbert shouted from the top. ‘Let Alfie recover. I’ll roll down with you, it did look like fun after all.’

      We spent the rest of the evening playing, rolling and enjoying the beach, finding some much-needed peace. It became another evening for us to feel lucky about.

      It wasn’t just George and me who needed a break in Devon, my human family did too. Jonathan had recently got a promotion at work, which is a good thing, but it meant he would have to work longer hours, and harder than he had before. Claire had told him to go for the job, but she was also worried about what it would mean for us as a family. She had to be supportive, however, because we all knew that Jonathan was only doing it for us, to provide more pilchards for George and me – yum – good schools for the children (whatever that meant) and Claire was even getting a new car. So this much-needed holiday had brought us all together in a way that reminded us that we were a loving family. Not without our problems, of course, but there is no such thing as a problem-less family, another thing I had learned the hard way. And when I heard Jonathan and Claire talking at night when the children were asleep, I knew they were both slightly nervous about how the new job would be and how they were going to cope with not having Jonathan around so much. I tried not to worry about them, but it wasn’t easy – I worried about everyone I loved.

      During the holiday, Claire, Jonathan and the children had enjoyed picnics on the beach, walks, and bike rides. George had tried to go join them in the bike basket, but he kept falling onto the handlebars of Toby’s bike, so Claire had banned him. While they had their human adventures, we had our own feline ones. Gilbert was quite an active cat, he often took us on what he would call country walks. They were more like runs, through fields – the first time we came here we were cornered by a herd of sheep and barely got out with one of our lives intact. He and George climbed trees while I stayed safely on the ground, and of course, we visited the beach, but mainly in the evenings when we had it to ourselves. After losing Tiger, I didn’t realise how much I needed a change of scene. Claire said Devon was like a tonic, and she wasn’t wrong – I felt as if I could breathe properly for the first time since I lost her.

      In the evenings at the cottage, Claire cooked, Jonathan relaxed, the children, worn out by the activities slept well. Sometimes the neighbours came round, or someone would babysit for us while Claire and Jonathan went to the local pub. We were quite friendly with some of the other families in the village, Seabreeze had become a home from home. Even the next door neighbour, Andrea, who once tried to run us out of the village, was our friend now. It’s a long story which culminated in Seabreeze Cottage almost being set on fire, but luckily Gilbert and I foiled the plan and saved the day. It’s what I did. As I said it’s a very long story but Andrea, who had been deserted by her husband, now had a new man friend called Fred, who was very jolly, and everyone agreed he made Andrea a lot more likeable. It’s a shame the same couldn’t be said for her cat, Chanel. Chanel was George’s first crush, she was a mean, unfriendly cat, and George’s devotion to her had been quite alarming. Luckily he had moved on now and saw her for the scowling cat she was. Despite the family being friends of ours now, Chanel still hissed at us whenever she saw us. Not everyone is kind, unfortunately, and not everyone wants to be a good friend. I am, George is,

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