Alby and the Cat Read online

  Alby looked around, half expecting it to jump out from somewhere just to annoy him. But it didn’t. There was no sign of that cat anywhere.

  ‘Alby – stay,’ said Jim when they arrived at the shop.

  Alby did exactly as he was told. Jim disappeared inside, feeling his way, and the shop’s bell tinkled as the door closed behind him.

  Alby sighed. He wished he could go inside too. He was allowed to – guide dogs were the only animals allowed on trains and in restaurants and other public places with their masters.

  But a milkbar could get quite busy at times, especially if several people decided to go and buy bread and milk all at once. So Jim preferred Alby to wait outside.

  It was boring, even if it was still classed as working. Alby just sat there waiting patiently for his master, no matter how long

  it took.

  Soon he found himself thinking about the cat. There had been no sign of it on the road after that lunatic driver had sped past them. No blood. No guts. Nothing remotely resembling a flat cat.

  A terrible thought occurred to him. Perhaps the cat was wrapped around the wheel of that madman’s car?

  But if that was the case, surely there would be some of the cat left on the road. A bit of fur, part of a tail, maybe even a squished eyeball ... but there was nothing.

  And as annoying a creature as that cat was, at least it was interesting company. So where was it?

  Suddenly a noise startled him, and Alby quickly glanced around. There, standing only metres away, was a small human.

  The boy stared at the dog sitting out the front of the shop. He wasn’t fond of dogs – he was a little scared of them. Once a black dog had chased him and bitten him on the leg. But this dog seemed pretty quiet. Maybe he could pat it. He took a few steps towards it and held out his hand. ‘Hey dog,’ he said.

  The dog didn’t move. It had a weird harness on, as if it had been pulling a cart. ‘Hey, where’s your dog cart?’ he said with a laugh.

  The dog ignored him.

  ‘What is it with you?’ the boy said, kicking a stone towards the dog.

  Still the dog didn’t move. It just stared at him.

  The boy was too scared to go any closer. To him the dog looked threatening, maybe even dangerous, the way it was staring at him. He searched the ground around him until he found some ammunition. It was time to have some fun.

  Alby sat there waiting as the human inched closer. Each watched the other intently. Alby still didn’t move, just as he had been taught in guide dog training.

  Even when the human kicked a stone at him, Alby stayed completely still. He didn’t understand the boy, but he understood the stone that came skidding towards him.

  Suddenly the small human lifted its arm – and threw something at him.

  The boy laughed as the stick hit the dog. He saw Alby flinch. The boy found another stick and piffed that too, watching his target, who just sat there, about as lifeless as a sack of spuds.

  ‘Stupid dog,’ muttered the boy. ‘You could at least move or something.’

  But it didn’t. Not even when the boy picked up a pebble and took aim. All it did was yelp when the pebble hit it on the head.

  The boy was excited. This dog wasn’t dangerous at all. It was just a sook.

  It was time for a new approach. Something to really set it off. He needed something bigger.

  Alby started to tremble. He dropped low to the ground and hoped that would protect him.

  The small human was nowhere to be seen now. Alby felt his breathing slow down a little. Surely Jim would be out of the shop soon. What was keeping him? He seemed to have been gone for an eternity.

  Alby continued to sit and wait. Then, just as he was starting to relax again, the small human returned. Alby’s heart was soon beating like a drum – or rather a hundred drums – thumping in his chest!

  The cat had almost lost one of his nine lives when that crazy car almost cleaned him up when they were crossing the road. Now he bolted along the footpath, jumping over fences and nipping across front yards to catch up with Alby at the shop.

  With all this exercise, he would probably fade away to a shadow in no time, or expire from a heart attack. Neither of those thoughts was very comforting.

  At last the shop loomed just up ahead. The cat could see Alby sitting outside. And there was someone else too – a small human.

  The cat watched as the human crouched down, fiddling with things on the ground.

  What was it up to?

  Suddenly the cat gasped in horror. The human had picked up something big and was aiming it straight at Alby.

  Alby was shaking. He could feel his heart racing uncomfortably as the human approached. The human was holding something – something big – and Alby didn’t much like the look of it.

  Alby crouched closer to the wall, pushing himself right up against it.

  But it was no use. The human kept coming, until the only option left for Alby was to run. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Where would it leave Jim?

  Alby curled his lips back, revealing sharp white teeth. His growl was serious – low and guttural. It was more than a warning ... his hackles were raised.

  The human was close now. Much too close. Alby got ready to charge.

  The boy hesitated when he heard Alby growl. He noticed the teeth and almost turned and ran, but last time the dog had attacked as soon as his back was turned – the coward. This time it would be different. He’d show that dog who was boss. He tested the lump of hard clay. It wasn’t as good as a rock, but it would have to do.

  The dog had dropped to the ground and was crouching low against the wall, as if that was going to keep it safe. It didn’t look so ferocious now!

  The boy lifted the lump of clay high in the air and took aim ...

  The cat took off with a flying leap, landing on the small human with all the force it could muster and digging in its claws.

  ‘Hey, what the—’ squeaked the human, as it slammed into the ground, dropping the clod.

  The cat didn’t stop there. Like a creature possessed, it clawed and scratched, until the human’s clothes were spotted with bright red blood.

  The human tried to break away from the cat’s grasp, but the cat dug its claws in and held on tight. The human squealed and whacked at the cat, trying to get rid of it.

  Finally the cat retracted its claws and jumped out of the human’s reach.

  The human ran, bellowing and crying, around the corner and away down the street. Alby and the cat watched in silence.

  ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ the cat thought to himself. Then he turned to Alby. ‘Better late than never, hey Alby?’ The cat looked at Alby closely. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I will be,’ said Alby, ‘now that the small human has gone. If you hadn’t come along I don’t know what I would have done.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said the cat. ‘All in a day’s work. Besides, I’ve finally realised that you really are a special dog, Alby. Not many dogs could do what you do – help a blind human.’

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said Alby. ‘I’m really glad you were here.’

  ‘Hmmm ... it’s good to know I’m not just a pretty face,’ grinned the cat.

  The shop bell tinkled and Jim wandered out.

  ‘Sorry, boy,’ he said, reaching down to stroke Alby. ‘Frank bailed me up for a chat. There was nothing I could do. He sure can talk when he wants to. But now I’m here, let’s go home.’

  Home, thought Alby. Yes. Home sounds good.

  Later that evening, Alby was sniffing around the garden when the cat suddenly appeared on the wall in front of Number 26.

  ‘Any room out here for a cat?’ he said, curling up on the bricks.

  Alby wandered over and sat down on the grass nearby.

  ‘Any cat who did what you did today is welcome here,’ he said. ‘Actually, I hate to admit it but you do have a way of growing on a dog.’

  ‘It took me a while to get used to you at first,’ contin
ued Alby. ‘But now that I am, you’re not too bad – for a cat.’

  ‘Ah!’ the cat grinned, and rolled over onto his back. ‘A compliment! Well, what do you know!’

  ‘Don’t let it go to your head just yet,’ Alby told him. ‘After all, you’re a cat and I’m a dog. There are certain things we have to do to keep up appearances, you know.’

  ‘I know. But tell me, how are you feeling after your terribly unpleasant ordeal?’ asked the cat.

  ‘That is one experience I’ll be happy to put behind me,’ sighed Alby. ‘I’m just glad not all humans are like that one.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed the cat. ‘But I have a feeling that particular human won’t be a problem any longer.’

  Suddenly the door at Number 28 was flung open, and the cat’s human began her familiar call. ‘Here Pussums. Come back, come back, wherever you are!’

  Then there was silence for a few minutes, another call, and a bang as the door closed behind her.

  ‘I must say, it’s so nice to be loved,’ cooed the cat.

  Suddenly there was a click as the porch light flicked off and Number 28 was shrouded in darkness.

  ‘You were saying?’ joked Alby.

  ‘Very funny,’ sniffed the cat.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Alby laughed. ‘It looks as though you’ve missed curfew.’

  ‘Looks that way,’ agreed the cat.

  ‘I guess you’ll need to find a place to stay for the night.’

  ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anywhere half decent, would you?’ asked the cat.

  ‘Hmmm ...’ smiled Alby. ‘As a matter of fact, I do. If you’ll just follow me ...’

  And the two of them headed towards the sunroom at Number 26.

  Writing the Alby stories has brought back many memories. My dad was blinded in an industrial accident many years ago and had a beautiful black Labrador guide dog named Duke. When Duke died, it was like losing his best friend, and Dad swore he’d never have another guide dog – he didn’t want to go through such sorrow again. So Dad has used his cane ever since.

  My dad is my inspiration. He exercises to keep fit; walks for an hour each morning with his cane; and has worked as a Bowen Therapist for over thirty years, with a very successful practice in Traralgon.

  Dad would not be the happy, well-adjusted person he is today without the help of his guide dog, Duke.

  Rae Dale has always had a passion for drawing and books.

  She studied at art school and then taught art and craft in many schools. In the 1990s, Rae began illustrating children’s books, a job she describes as an ‘adventure’. Today Rae lives in the rolling hills outside Melbourne with her family.

  The cat in this story looks like her own furry feisty feline at home.