Chapter 43 — Alfie the Cat and Shep the Alsatian

The next day we booked an appointment at some cat rescue centre and went to secure the cat, leaving the mice back home to run with abandon. Anna had decided that she wanted to give the cat that had been in the sanctuary the longest a chance of a new home, just so long as it could catch and deter the mice. We were introduced to Eric, a big, white cat with brown streaks and odd looking ears.

'Eric's our longest resident, and we let him wander around the sanctuary because of it.'

Indeed Eric did have free rein to wander whilst all the other cats were imprisoned in their cages. There were some beautiful cats in there, but Anna kept to her word and said, 'We'll have him.'

'I have to warn you, though, that Eric isn't a lap cat and you won't get him sleeping on your knees.'

'All the better as my daughter has asthma, and he'll be just fine.'

'One final point is that Eric has a tendency to scratch if you go and try to stroke him.'

Anna replied, 'He seems fine to me,' and she bent down to stroke him and received her first scratch.

'Ooh, the little bleeder.'

But Eric drawing first blood didn't deter Anna, as she wanted rid of those mice, and Eric was placed in the cat box and put in the back of the car.

On the way back, we discussed his name, and both agreed we didn't like it and decided to change it to Alfie instead.

The first task was to get Smokey used to Alfie. Smokey's whippet instinct was decidedly against cats, and we had to make sure he wouldn't go for the new feline addition to the household. Our fears, however, were completely wrong, because the moment we let go of the cat, it flew at the dog and attacked poor Smokey, who yelled with terror and ran off to his kennel.

It took Alfie no more than a week to rid the house of mice, and the only remaining assailants to the furniture were Alfie's claws, who'd scratch himself on them stretching himself in the morning.

***

Life was good. Anna adored home and family life and everything was happy. There was, however, one issue that troubled us. Between the fields and the house, there was a road, not a busy road, but not a quiet one, either, and often, too often, when I'd take Smokey out across the fields and into the woods, he'd flee from some totally unfounded fear and bound back home and across the road. Whippets are notoriously timid creatures, and Smokey was no different.

He'd only have to look at some other dog, and he'd start shivering with fear, and if the other dog barked, or even growled, that was it, and off he'd fly home. It was only a matter of time before he'd get run over.

A solution was needed. I could keep him on the lead, but I'd never once had any of the dogs I'd had off the lead in the fields and parks, and so that was out of the question. Rebecca, though, came to the rescue and said that a girl's uncle has an Alsatian for sale, cheap and in Huddersfield.

'How much?'

'£70.'

'That is cheap. Are you sure it's a pedigree Alsatian?'

'I don't know. You'll have to see for yourself.'

Anna interjected and said, 'Even if it isn't, so long as it's big, and Smokey can feel protected and won't run off home, that's all that matters.'

We went and had some difficulty finding the house on this council estate in Huddersfield. When we did, the red brick at the front of the house was sprayed with white splashes of graffiti, and the desperate property didn't even possess a fence, as that lay on the floor, all twisted and broken, probably by the wrecked car sitting on top of it now.

'You might as well have a look at the pup, since we're here, Karl,' Anna suggested.

I got out of the car and negotiated the holes written into the path to the door. I only had to knock once when this great howl of dogs and shouts emanated from within. No sooner had it all begun than the paint-peeled door creaked open to reveal a black beard first – and I swear I saw a baked bean in the middle of it, or at least I imagined I did – and the beard was followed by one of the most unkempt creatures I've ever had the misfortune to come across. He was in his early thirties, and his black hair was matted, and his face was the colour of oil.

His vest fared no better, and a great barrel of a belly hung out from beneath it. I have no sense of smell, but I'm sure my nose was twitching to get the fuck out of there.

'What d'ye want?' he growled with great suspicion. He could speak, just about. He didn't open the door all the way, though, as if highly protective of something, something probably purloined very recently.

'I've come about that Alsatian you've got for sale.'

The door was immediately opened wide, and the brute of a monster fell to complete ease, and he even attempted at being polite.

'Yea, yea. Can yer wait a minute, please, while I go and get it?'

I don't know how much mental effort it took the man to utter 'please', but he managed that strange word.

A moment later he appeared from the darkness of his abode with a beautiful puppy of an Alsatian. He thrust it out for me to inspect, and although the puppy was no more than six weeks old, I had enough experience of dogs to know that this one was going to be a big one, as his feet and legs were exceptionally large.

'Do you have any papers to go with him?' I inquired.

When the monster twisted his face as a reply, I realised he didn't.

'Can I see the mother then?'

'She's tired and is having a kip,' he replied, and I don't know to this day whether he thought I meant his mother.

There must have been someone listening to the conversation because the inner door was opened and a dog was thrust through it.

'Is that the mother?'

'Yea, but she's a bit thin, cos of having them pups.'

The dog wasn't so much thin as emaciated, and there was no way that dog standing at the door was the mother of the Alsatian pup in the man's oily hands. I realised what they were up to at once and had acquired the pup from somewhere and were desperately trying to sell it on and be rid of it. They didn't know me from Adam, and I handed over the money and took the beautiful pup.

Anna and the kids were still in the car when I opened the door and thrust in the dog.

'Jeeeze!' Rebecca and Anna cried.

Alex added, 'It stinks, Dad.'

And indeed the dog did stink; the smell from the house was still clinging to it, and we had to drive home with all the windows down.

Great creativity went into thinking a name for our new family addition, and Shep was finally chosen. Alfie, the cat, was given stern warning to keep his claws away from him, and Smokey tolerated the little pup. All we had to do now was to wait for the dog to grow to full size, and Smokey would cease to run off home with him at his side.

Shep did grow into a massive dog, and we were later told that he was a Belgian Shepherd by breed. There was one error, though, in our judgement, and one which we didn't realise at the time of getting the dog. The dog was no more than six weeks old when we acquired him, and from that time on, the only dog he had to learn from was Smokey, and Smokey passed every single fear into that big Alsatian, so that by the time he was just over a year old, he was as timid as was Smokey. The only consolation was that the size of Shep did deter most dogs from 'starting' as it were or from even coming near.