Alfie and George: A heart-warming tale about how one cat and his kitten brought a street together

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‘How are you doing?’ he asked, grinning. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m Roddy and I’m a local resident. I’m sorry if you think me rude but, well, I’m not used to visiting cats.’ He blinked at Snowball, which is our equivalent of blowing kisses. Just who did this Roddy think he was?

‘We live in London,’ I replied haughtily. Anyone who thinks that cats don’t flirt should have seen him as he stretched out his paws and wrapped his tail neatly round his body. I decided he was too big and scruffy to be considered good-looking, which was a relief. I, with my blue-grey fur and svelte figure, was often complimented on my handsomeness. In any case, I was pretty secure in my looks and I knew Snowball was loyal, so I tried to relax a bit.

‘London, you say? Well I don’t know anything about that.’ He was looking directly at Snowball.

‘The thing is,’ Snowball said, a little bit too flirtatiously, ‘we’re a little lost. We tried to shelter from the rain and ended up trapped in a barn with some rather unfriendly pigs and now we don’t know how to get back to the holiday house.’ She tilted her head, and I saw that already Roddy was smitten.

‘Where are you staying?’ he asked, puffing his chest out. ‘I’m a bit of an expert on these parts.’

‘A big house,’ I replied, not exactly enjoying this exchange, though I acknowledged he was probably our best hope.

‘That narrows it down,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Well Roddy,’ purred Snowball, stretching out her paws, ‘it’s near the farm, we have hens on the edge of the garden and there’s a field of cows directly in front of us.’

‘Ah, I know where you mean. Right, city cats, follow me and I’ll have you home in no time.’

Despite us getting a bit wet and being a little bit stressed from our adventure, Roddy got us home safely, and although I was still a bit annoyed at his flirting with my girlfriend, I thanked him graciously. I was relieved. As we left him at the door, he was still marvelling at how odd it was for cats to go on holiday.

The fire wasn’t lit as the house was empty, but it was warm as we lay down in front of it to dry off. I decided that, as our romantic trip had been my idea, I would be magnanimous.

‘I’m sorry that our day went a bit wrong,’ I said, nuzzling into Snowball’s neck.

‘And I’m sorry I snapped. I was just scared. But you took care of me, like always,’ she said, returning the nuzzle.

‘Well, it was Roddy who saved us,’ I pointed out.

‘Maybe, but you’re my hero, not him,’ she said, and I couldn’t have felt happier.

The door opened and our families, dripping wet, walked into the living room.

‘Let’s light the fire and get ourselves out of these wet clothes before we catch pneumonia,’ Karen said.

‘Look at those two, just relaxing by the warm hearth while we nearly drowned on the beach,’ Jonathan said, getting the kindling into the grate. With our eyes half closed, Snowball and I grinned at each other. How little they knew.