Showbusiness Read online

  Leanne Davidson

  Illustrated by Kim Dingwall

  LJD Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any process without the written permission of the publisher. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  First published by LJD Books 2010, reprinted 2016

  PO Box 918 Warragul Victoria 3820

  http://www.quizzicalbook.com/index.html

  Edited, designed and produced by Nan McNab

  Distributed by Dennis Jones & Associates,

  Unit 1/10 Melrich Road Bayswater Victoria 3153

  [email protected] Australia

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Creator: Davidson, Leanne, 1964- author.

  Title: Alby and the cat : showbusiness / Leanne Davidson ; Kim

  Dingwall, illustrator ; Nan McNab,

  editor.

  ISBN: 9780980724172 (eBook)

  Target Audience: For primary school age.

  Subjects: Dogs--Juvenile fiction.

  Cats--Juvenile fiction.

  Other Creators/Contributors:

  Dingwall, Kim, illustrator.

  McNab, Nan, editor.

  Dewey Number: A823.4

  Chapter 1 Lock out

  Chapter 2 Rude awakening

  Chapter 3 Prize roses

  Chapter 4 Nine lives

  Chapter 5 The Morvale Show

  Chapter 6 Best in show

  Chapter 7 Long-lost friend

  Chapter 8 Cat fight

  Chapter 9 All’s well

  The cat was cold, wet and miserable. His fur stuck to his skin, and his teeth chattered. At this rate he would catch pneumonia. There was nothing surer.

  Not that anyone cared. Obviously Alice his human didn’t.

  She had called, and he’d come. Well, not straight away, but not long after. Could he help it if he’d been chatting to that guide dog from next door – Alby, wasn’t it? And then there was that mouse on the way back.

  He’d been just about to pounce when he’d heard it. The dreaded click. And he knew what that meant. He was locked out for the night.

  Now here he was, out in the rain. Left to fend for himself against the elements. How could Alice do such a thing? After all the years of companionship he had given her.

  He tried mewing. And scratching at the door. But nothing worked. She must be deaf.

  The rain was falling steadily now. The cat would have to seek shelter somewhere, but where? There were only a few shrubs scattered about the garden. They would hardly offer any protection. And Alice’s prized rose bushes? Too prickly.

  Then he had an idea.

  He bounded across the wet lawn and jumped up onto the fence, almost losing his balance in the process. Then he leapt into the backyard of number twenty-six, where the Williams family lived.

  The door to their sunroom was still open. The cat could see Alby curled up in the corner, snoring.

  ‘Well, what do you know?’ thought the cat, ‘I think I’ve found the perfect place to keep nice and dry.’

  Suddenly the back door opened and Jim Williams, Alby’s blind master, stepped into the sunroom.

  The cat stopped dead.

  ‘I’d better shut this door,’ Jim whispered. ‘Can’t have the rain coming in now, can we boy?’

  But Alby barely stirred.

  Jim made his way to the sunroom door, touching the walls now and then for guidance.

  ‘Oh no,’ thought the cat. ‘He wouldn’t … ’

  There wasn’t a second to lose! The cat leapt off the fence and bounded across the grass.

  As Jim pulled the door closed, he thought he felt a draught around his ankles. But then it was gone, as quickly as it had come.

  So Jim headed back inside to bed.

  It was almost morning when Alby suddenly woke. He was suffocating! He couldn’t breathe!

  Something was on his face, covering his nose. Something soft, and furry and …

  ‘Cat!’ he shrieked. ‘What are you doing here? You live next door. At number twenty-eight. Or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Oh, please don’t move,’ purred the cat sleepily. ‘I’m all nice and comfy. Besides, you said I was welcome here anytime. Remember?’

  Not so long ago, the cat had rescued Alby from a perilous situation. Obviously he was not going to let the dog forget it in a hurry.

  ‘Oh yes … so I did,’ said Alby. ‘But that doesn’t mean I want your fluffy feline butt snuggled up to my nose whenever it suits you.’

  ‘Hmmph! Some neighbour you are,’ sniffed the cat.

  The back door suddenly opened and Jim stepped out. Alby leapt to his feet and the cat hit the floor with a thud.

  ‘Gee thanks a lot,’ it grumbled.

  ‘Good morning Alby,’ Jim said cheerfully, reaching for the harness that was hanging on a hook beneath the kitchen window. ‘All ready for a walk?’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to wear that silly looking contraption again?’ sneered the cat.

  ‘I have to,’ replied Alby. ‘I’m a guide dog, remember. I have a job to do. Whenever I’m working I have to wear my harness.’

  ‘Typical,’ said the cat. ‘Always at the beck and call of humans. Dogs have no pride. None whatsoever.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with pride, or being at the beck and call of humans,’ Alby told him. ‘Jim puts his complete faith and trust in me. He has to. I’m his eyes.’

  ‘Yes, well, that may be, but you still look ridiculous.’

  Alby took no notice of the cat’s comments. Instead, he bounded over to Jim, tail wagging furiously. Jim scruffed his head affectionately.

  The cat, meanwhile lay sprawled out in the corner of the sunroom, watching the man and the dog through sleepy slits.

  Jim opened the door for Alby, so he could go out and relieve himself before they left, then he went in search of his talking clock, which he’d put on the table the night before.

  Sometimes, especially early in the morning, Jim became disoriented. And when that happened, he sometimes ended up in the wrong place. There were times when he’d jumped out of bed too quickly, heading off to where he thought the toilet was, only to find he was in one of the spare bedrooms instead.

  At other times he found himself wandering aimlessly up and down the hallway, trying to figure out just where he was. That was when Ellen, his wife, usually stepped in and retrieved him, so that he could get back to bed and they could both get some sleep.

  Now, Jim made his way over to where he thought the table was, in the centre of the sunroom, only to find the brick wall instead. He followed that around, feeling for familiar things such as windows or gaps to pinpoint his position until, at last, his hands felt the wood of the table top.

  The cat, meanwhile, had drifted off to sleep. He didn’t even notice the blind man fumbling about near the table.

  Suddenly Jim stepped squarely on the cat’s tail. The cat yowled in pain, Jim leapt with fright, and the cat took off like a bolt of lightning.

  ‘What!? Oh my goodness, was that a cat or a possum?’ exclaimed Jim, alarmed. ‘And how did it get in here?’

  The cat zoomed past Alby in a fat, furry flash. He looked so funny, Alby couldn’t help laughing. He’d heard the racket, the dreadful yowl, and simply shaken his head. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what had happened. Serve the cat right. He should’ve been paying attention, not lazing around. How did he expect Jim to know he was there. Jim was blind, after all. The cat wasn’t.

  Alby trotted back into the sunroom. At least with the cat gone he could get on the with the stuff that really mattered. Like his morning walk with Jim. He went up to his master and nuzzled his hand.

  Jim was sitting on the step a
t the back door, still trying to make sense of what had happened. And to top it off, he still didn’t have his talking clock. Alby nudged his hand gently.

  ‘Yes, all right, we’ll get going, boy,’ said Jim as he harnessed the dog up. ‘I suppose I can do without the clock for one morning.’

  Alby knew exactly how to get to the shop. When he and Jim had first been matched, a trainer had brought him to Jim’s house to help him learn about Jim’s surroundings.

  They’d had several weeks of special training. First they’d gone to the newsagent where Jim put on his lotto, then the plaza where he and Ellen went shopping; even to the butcher’s. They’d visited all their favourite cafes and restaurants and, of course, Patto’s, the shop they visited each morning for the milk and paper. Not just once, either. They’d had to do each route again and again, until they got it right and the trainer was satisfied they could do it unaided.

  Now, as they reached the front gate, Jim paused to get his bearings, and Alby immediately stopped. Jim was just about to instruct the dog to move forward, when he heard a cheerful, ‘Good morning, Jim. Oh, and you too, Alby. Couldn’t forget you now, could I?’

  Jim recognised the voice of Alice Bremner, his next-door neighbour. Must be out in the garden, he thought. Which was a pity. He might never get away from her.

  ‘Good morning, Alice,’ said Jim. ‘Getting an early start in the garden, eh?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Alice. ‘I’m watering my roses. The Morvale Show is on this weekend and I have them entered in the flower competition. I’ve won the Best Roses section for the past two years, you know.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Jim. ‘They smell magnificent.’

  ‘If you think they smell good, you should see— oh, I’m sorry, Jim, I wasn’t thinking. Talk about foot in mouth!’

  Jim smiled. ‘That’s okay, Alice. Really.’

  Jim was used to such comments, and the way people acted around him. For some reason, people were intrigued by guide dogs. Whether it was the way they looked, or the way they worked. People always admired them, always wanted to be near them.

  As for Jim, he was just the invisible person attached to the dog. One of the hardest things to come to terms with since he’d lost his sight was that people seemed to feel uncomfortable in the presence of a blind person. It was as if he had become a different person.

  Jim knew it was difficult talking to someone who could no longer see you. If people couldn’t look you in the eye, they weren’t sure where to look. Often, if someone wanted to ask about his blindness, or the accident that caused it, they asked Ellen. It was as if, along with losing his sight, Jim had somehow lost his brain and his ability to speak.

  But he didn’t blame anyone. How could he? People didn’t understand. It was as simple as that. It was something he had to get used to. Something he had to learn to deal with in his own way. And, thankfully, he had.

  ‘You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, Alice,’ Jim reassured her. ‘Besides, if those roses look half as good as they smell, I think you’ll definitely be a winner.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ said Alice.

  ‘Well, I’d better be going,’ said Jim. ‘You know what Ellen is like. If I take too long she’s likely to send out a search party.’

  They both laughed.

  As Alby stood patiently beside his master, he looked around for the cat. He was disappointed when he didn’t spy it. Not on the fence. Not hovering around Alice, his human. Nowhere. And that was strange. Because usually he hung around like a bad smell, especially on their daily trip to the shop.

  Even though it was annoying the way the cat zig-zagged all over the place, doing its best to distract him, he’d kind of got used to it after a while. Alby liked the fact that the cat was full of surprises. You never knew quite what it was going to do next.

  ‘Alby, forward,’ Jim instructed, and Alby obeyed, glancing around for the cat one last time before moving off.

  It had been two days and there was still no sign of that cat. Not so much as a whisker.

  Alby sighed. Where was he?

  What if, when Jim had stepped on his tail, he’d broken it? What if it had dropped off and the cat was now in hiding, too embarrassed to show himself? Or worse still, what if the tail had turned gangrenous, and the cat was now …

  No. That was ridiculous. Cats had nine lives. And from Alby’s calculations, the cat from number twenty-eight had at least seven left.

  Alby felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have laughed at the cat. That was the same as someone laughing at Jim because he was blind. And Alby knew how he’d feel about that. He wouldn’t like it. Not one little bit.

  He wandered out of the sunroom and into the backyard, as he had done numerous times that day, and the day before. But the cat wasn’t there. There was no fluffy lump on the fence. Nothing on the grass nearby.

  Not that he wished the cat would come back, because he didn’t. They were neighbours, yes. But it wasn’t like they were best friends or anything. Not having the cat around did have its good points.

  For one, he could enjoy his early mornings with Jim now, without those ridiculous cat games. Or the snide comments.

  He could fart if he wanted, too, or burp as loudly as he wished, without having to worry about two beady cat’s eyes blinking at him in shock.

  And he could finally cock his leg in peace, without that annoying fluff ball hovering about and giving a running commentary.

  Yes, it definitely was good without the pesky thing around. Blissful, even.

  But it was quiet. And a tad boring. Even a little bit lonely. Annoying as the cat was, it had at least been interesting company.

  Night was beginning to fall. Alby could see a light on inside number twenty-eight, but the back porch light was off, as it had been all week.

  Alby felt a peculiar loneliness steal over him. Why, he wasn’t sure.

  As much as dogs were supposed to hate cats, Alby didn’t have an atom of hate in him. He had been taught tolerance. And he was naturally loyal. Hate just wasn’t in a guide dog’s vocabulary.

  ‘Alby, come.’

  At the sound of Jim’s voice Alby got up immediately and headed back to the sunroom.

  ‘There you are,’ said Jim, and he gave the dog a gentle rub behind the ears, before harnessing him up. ‘We’re going to see a bit of Morvale night life, Alby. The Morvale Show, to be precise. Ellen wants to check out Alice Bremner’s roses exhibit. Boring, I know, but it’ll give us something to do.’

  Alby stood proudly in his harness, awaiting Jim’s instructions. This was when he was happiest, when nothing else in the world mattered.

  Who needed a silly cat, anyway?

  ‘Here we go,’ said Jim, as he and Alby followed Ellen through the entrance gate of the Morvale Show.

  ‘Thank goodness we don’t have to go anywhere near the rides,’ said Ellen. ‘We wouldn’t be able to move.’

  ‘Steer me clear then,’ said Jim. There were too many people for his liking.

  Jim held lightly onto one of Ellen’s arms to make it a little easier, and they headed for the pavilion where you could find the best fruits and produce, the best cakes, and the best flowers, amongst a host of other things.

  And that’s where they hoped to find Alice, too.

  All week she had been dropping subtle hints about her roses to Ellen, so naturally Ellen felt she had to at least go and see them. It was the neighbourly thing to do.

  ‘Oh good,’ said Ellen. ‘The pavilion is just over here on the left. We don’t have to go anywhere near the main crowd.’

  ‘Suits me,’ replied Jim.

  The pavilion was huge. A steady stream of people wandered through, checking out what was on offer.

  ‘Boy, it’s like a maze in here,’ sighed Ellen when they got inside. ‘There are so many different sections.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ sighed Jim. ‘My eyes may not function too well, but my nose is getting a real workout.’

  ‘That’s because we’re
standing next to the Best Homemade Cakes section,’ explained Ellen. ‘Some of them look fantastic. I wouldn’t mind being a judge if it meant tasting them all.’

  ‘Me either,’ said Jim. ‘Any sign of Alice yet?’

  Ellen glanced around, but there were too many exhibits, and too many people.

  ‘No, not yet,’ she sighed, as she led Jim and Alby safely through the crowd.

  They passed the different winning exhibits: cakes, fruits and vegetables, jams, pickles and sauces. You name it, it was here. Several caught Ellen’s interest and she moved in closer for a better look, only to have Jim walk straight into the back of a lady standing next to her.

  The lady spun around, a scowl quickly spreading across her face. But it disappeared the minute she saw Jim clutching Alby’s harness and realised that Jim was blind.

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ said Jim automatically. He’d learnt that it was best to always be pleasant and polite, in case the person he’d bumped into thought he was rude.

  ‘I, er ... that’s okay,’ said the lady. ‘Accidents happen.’ Then she smiled towards Ellen, before wandering off to look at some of the other exhibits.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jim,’ said Ellen. ‘That was my fault. I shouldn’t have stopped so suddenly. I didn’t think.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jim assured her. ‘As that lady said, accidents happen. Besides, banging into the back of a lady is a lot better than banging into an open dishwasher, I can tell you!’

  Jim had banged into many things since he’d been blind: doors, open dishwashers, even a tree branch on one of his morning walks. Whenever this happened, he tried not to swear out loud, even if it hurt; he never knew who might be standing nearby. That was particularly so in public. It was just another thing Jim had learned to live with. Ellen couldn’t be next to him every second of the day to steer him clear of things, and Jim didn’t expect her to be. He wanted to be independent and to be treated normally, because he was normal. He just didn’t have his sight anymore.