“Well, can’t you teach him?” Evie looked up at her mum and suddenly grinned. “Oh, all right. I suppose not. But I am really, really tired.” She sighed and hooked her finger into Sam’s tiny hand. “Don’t you dare nap all afternoon, Sam. Stay up and then you’ll sleep tonight!”
It hadn’t been a good week. Evie’s dad was back at work now, and it was harder to get everything done without the extra help. Sam was gorgeous, but he wasn’t sleeping well, and when he was awake he was loud. Everyone’s temper was fraying.
Alfie was trying his best to keep out of the way, but he never managed to be in the right place. Most days Evie’s mum walked into him about three times just doing the washing-up. When she got back from taking Evie to school that Friday, she tripped over Alfie while she was carrying a basket of washing, and trod on his paw, but she didn’t seem to be sorry. He held it up and whined, but all she did was snap, “Alfie! Not again! Get out of the way, you silly dog!” Alfie limped out of the kitchen, feeling very hard done by.
He sat in the hallway, thoughtfully chewing on a small teddy bear he’d found on the stairs. He just couldn’t seem to do anything right any more. Things had been much nicer before.
At that moment, Sam started crying upstairs and Mum dashed past to go and fetch him – and saw the small pile of shredded fur that had once been a teddy. “Alfie!” she wailed, and Alfie gazed up at her. He didn’t know why she was cross – furry toys were there to be chewed, and he didn’t see what the fuss was about. But it looked like Mum didn’t agree, judging by the way she snatched up what was left of the teddy and glared at him.
Alfie was still in disgrace when Gran popped round that afternoon, and he was delighted to see her. At last someone who actually had time to sit and scratch him behind the ears properly! He leaned against Gran’s leg affectionately. For a moment he almost wished that she would take him back to her house. Then he shook his head and snorted. No! He was Evie’s dog. He was sure that she would get over the baby thing soon, and then maybe they could go back to proper walks and more cuddling.
“You look exhausted!” Gran was saying to Mum. “Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a nap? I’ll look after Sam for you.”
Mum sighed. “I’d love to, but he’s being so grumpy today. He wouldn’t even go to his dad this morning – every time I put him down he howls. I just don’t know what’s the matter with him. Anyway, I’ve got to go and fetch Evie in a minute.”
Gran stood up firmly. “There you are then. Put him in the pushchair and I’ll take him with me and get Evie for you. You go and have a rest. Sam will probably sleep too.”
“If you’re sure…” Mum tucked Sam in, and set off upstairs, looking grateful.
Me too! Me too! Alfie whined hopefully, bouncing round Gran’s ankles as she headed for the door. He was still desperate for more walks.
“Sorry, Alfie, I’d love to take you, but I’m not used to this pushchair and I can’t manage both of you.” She looked down at the little dog thoughtfully. “I’d better talk to Evie about you. I don’t think she’s exercising you enough.”
Alfie yelped in agreement, and she nodded to herself.
Unfortunately, Gran’s master plan for settling Sam didn’t work. At five o’clock, when she had to leave to go and get Tigger and Ben their tea, Sam was still wailing. And when Evie’s dad walked in at six, he was greeted by a howling baby, a frazzled wife and a cross daughter.
“Looks like we’re in for a fun weekend,” he joked, but nobody else thought it was funny.
Alfie watched Dad hopefully. Mum and Evie had been so stressed by Sam’s crying that they had forgotten to feed him. He nosed eagerly at his food bowl, and looked up at Dad. He wasn’t watching. Alfie sighed and trailed back to his basket, where he curled up with his back to the rest of the family. Maybe he’d better just have a sleep and try again in a bit.
A couple of hours later, Alfie was convinced he was going to starve if he didn’t get fed soon. He trotted into the living room, where Mum and Dad were taking turns to walk Sam up and down. Evie was just getting ready to go up to bed. Alfie was horrified. If Evie went to bed, they’d never remember to feed him! Desperate measures were needed. He nipped back to the kitchen.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Mum murmured, watching as Sam slumped slightly on his dad’s shoulder. “He’s going off to sleep. No, don’t stop!”
Dad nodded grimly, and resumed his trek up and down the room. “I think he’s fallen asleep,” he sighed, a couple of minutes later. “Can we risk laying him down, do you—”
It was at that moment that Alfie trotted back in, carrying his metal food bowl in his teeth. He dropped it hard on the wooden floor, and barked.
Sam shot upright and let out a blood-curdling wail.
“Alfie! You bad dog!” Mum groaned. “That’s it. Kitchen! Now! In your basket!” And she shooed him out, flapping her hands crossly.
Alfie was banished. It was the first night he’d ever spent in the kitchen, instead of curled up on the end of Evie’s bed. He was so confused. He’d only wanted his tea! Everyone else had had theirs, and he was starving.
For the next hour, Alfie and Sam howled together. Then Sam suddenly decided not to bother any more and fell blissfully asleep; but Alfie lay in his basket, and stared at the dark kitchen. Why didn’t Evie want him upstairs? What had he done?
Didn’t she love him any more?
Chapter Five
The next morning was Saturday, and the family was having breakfast. It was always a really nice time – the beginning of the weekend, when they all had a chance to relax. They usually had something extra-nice for breakfast too. Today, not even croissants could cheer everyone up.
At least Sam seemed to be in a better mood. He was lying in his bouncy chair in the living room.
“He’s fine,” Dad reported back after a quick check. “Seems to be enjoying himself actually – I think he’s learning to bat at that dangly toy you bought him, Evie.” He gave a long, slow sigh of relief, sat down and poured himself a large cup of coffee.
Alfie jumped up, his paws on Dad’s knee, holding his squeaky bone hopefully in his mouth. Dad was usually good for a game.
“Not now, Alfie,” Dad muttered, pushing him away gently.
Alfie went to paw at Evie’s ankles, hoping for a bit of croissant. She dangled a piece by his nose, and he gulped it down gratefully.
“Evie!” Mum said sharply. “Are you giving Alfie scraps? How many times have I told you not to feed that dog at the table?” Mum didn’t normally mind that much, but today she was tired and snappish.
“Shoo, Alfie!” Evie whispered, nudging him out from under the table with her foot.
Alfie took one look at Mum’s cross face, and trailed sadly into the living room. He sat down next to Sam. The baby was half-smiling at the bouncy animals toy stretched across the front of his chair, and vaguely waving a hand at it every so often. Alfie watched. It was quite fun. He lay down with his nose on his paws and gazed up as the little creatures jumped and danced. Sam smelled nice – milky – and he was relaxing to be with after the tense, grumpy mood in the kitchen. Sam made little squeaky, grunting noises to himself, and Alfie wuffed quietly back, his eyes slowly closing as he drifted off for a snooze.