From the day Charlie lost what was dearest to him, he never set foot in his kennel again. From then on, he slept on bare earth. He barely ate, barely acknowledged his only remaining friend, George…
Another November rolled in. Each day was colder than the last, a thick leaden sky hanging overhead, and folks bustled about, all bundled up in heavy wool coats and scarves. There was already a whisper of winter in the air, and Charlie could sense itsnow was just around the corner.
I wonder when someones going to stuff my kennel with some nice warm straw? Ive got enough fur not to freeze to death, but the nights really do cut to the bone lately… thought the old dog, stretched out on the damp ground.
Half-heartedly, he watched the warehouse lads loading boxes into lorries that belched out stale, unpleasant fumes. Nobody seemed to pay the ancient guard dog the slightest attention.
What are you lounging about for? came a voice. The warehouse security chap wandered over, fag dangling from his mouth. Youre here to watch the place, not sunbathe like some overfed house mutt. Pathetic.
He spat viciously, nearly hitting Charlies paws, and ducked back into the warm break room. His name was Dave. Hed disliked Charlie since hed been no more than a scrawny pupno reason or logic, just good old-fashioned pointless loathing.
Moments later, a battered old green Land Rover rolled into the yard. Charlie leapt to his feet, tail trying to wag as best it could.
All right, mate? called a man in a flat cap, stubbly cheeks glowing pink. I’ve come to see you snug.
It was GeorgeCharlies favourite security man, by a country mile. George always had a kind word and a treat handy for the dog, and, true to form, even on his day off hed remembered his furry friend: hed come bearing a bale of straw to keep Charlie warm.
George packed the kennel with fresh, fragrant straw, then fetched a bowl of hot porridge and meaty scraps from his car. He waited patiently while Charlie wolfed it down, collected the empty bowl to wash, and then, with a gentle scratch to the ears, took his leave.
Charlie was alone again. At least night was fallingsleep was a welcome escape from the ache of loneliness that seemed to loom constantly beside him.
As dusk deepened, Charlie padded toward the kennel. He was just about to crawl inside when he stopped, nose twitching.
Two bright emerald circles glowed from the depths of the straw. An ominous hiss floated out.
Charlie blinked amiably at his uninvited guest: a scraggy black cat with huge, haunting eyes, bristling with warning.
Dont try anything. I bite, and not for laughs! her gaze seemed to say.
Despite the evil-eye, Charlie felt a surprising jolt of cheer.
The kennels a tight squeeze, but I dare say well both fit, he decided, ever the optimist.
He took a step forward, only for a tiny paw to slice the air, wicked claws gleaming like cutlasses.
Hisssssss! the cat objected, very much not in the mood for friendly negotiations.
Oh well. I can always sleep outside, Charlie thought, placidly curling up beside his own front door.
Morning found Charlie up early, stomach rumbling for breakfast as he always awaited with anticipation. Glancing toward the kennel, he spotted the cat curled up, sweetly asleep.
Shes actually rather adorable.
Dave shuffled out of the break room looking as cheerful as a rainy Monday, tossed a handful of scabby leftovers onto the ground and stalked off.
Charlie was supposed to have proper dog food, but Dave never bothered; hed just lob whatever hed scraped off his own plate. No surprise, Charlies stomach often paid the price. But who cared?
He sniffed at the mess of foodsuddenly, a familiar scent…
The cat! She was sitting bold as brass right beside him, gnawing at a bit of sausage skin as though this were the most natural thing in England.
Charlie was chuffed to shareespecially with one so skinny.
Catching his gaze, the cat tensed, bracing for trouble, but Charlie just crunched down on some bread, eyeing her with amiable curiosity.
Whys she always cross? Maybe she fancies some bread too? he wondered, reluctantly nudging a chunk in her direction.
The day passed with the two studying each other. The cattense, ready for a scrap. Charliesimply intrigued and gentle.
That evening, as Dave finished his shift, he flung the days rejects at the dog again. The cat didnt hesitatedinner was dinner.
Well, Ill be blessed! Whats this thensome sort of witch come to curse us? Dave yelped, stumbling backwards. Away with you! Get lost! Filthy beast!
The cat darted behind Charlie. He hesitated for a moment but soon got his act togetherbaring teeth, hackles raised, eyes hard. Dave snorted contemptuously and left in a huff. The new night watchman didnt so much as glance at the animals.
The cat shot Charlie a reserved, almost grateful look. He mused to himself:
Witch, is it? Is that her name? Witch… yes, thatll do.
From then on, he called her Witch.
Soon the frost set in. Witch settled once more in the straw. Charlie didnt want to disturb her, but he peeped inside anyway.
Witch gave him a look he could only interpret as, What sort of dog are you, anyway? But she shifted over ever so slightly, permitting him to nestle beside her.
All night, they dozed pressed up together. Never had sleep been so peaceful.
After that, Charlie and Witch became inseparable. They ate together, slept together, and chatted in their own animal tongue.
When George first saw Witch curled up with Charlie, he could hardly believe his eyes: such a scrap of a thing, and no fear of the big old mutt.
Soon, though, he understoodanimals know love just as well as any human, and love, as they say, doesnt care about size.
George took Witch under his wing: he took her to the vet, brushed the burrs out of her fur, and kept her fed. Within a fortnight, she was a different cat.
Only Dave remained a nuisance. He convinced himself that a black cat meant nothing but bad luck, and decided to get rid of her.
One night he even tried to poison her, but Charlie caught a whiff and put a stop to ithe always stayed alert.
One particularly bitter night, dog and cat were curled up tight. Charlie was licking yet another of Witchs scratchesshe was forever off on new misadventures.
Suddenly, they caught a peculiar smellsomething wasnt right…
Charlie bolted out, barking as if possessed. Fire! The warehouse was ablaze!
Dave burst out, swearing and stumbling about, patting his pockets in paniched lost his phone.
Witch let out a plaintive meow. Dave spun roundthe cat was sitting primly next to the fallen mobile.
Rotten witch! he snapped, shoving her aside, grabbing his phone and calling the fire brigade.
Charlie dashed after Witch, who was limping away from the spreading smoke. They took shelter in the bushes until the flames were out.
When Dave finally stumbled home, he shot Witch a look so full of hatred it could curdle milk.
Next day, Charlie overheard Dave at the guard post:
Im telling you, that cats a menace. Havent you seen her eyes? Real witchs eyes!
So whats your plan? someone replied, not too fussed.
Take her out to the woods. Leave her there. Easy.
Charlie froze, his heart clenching. He nestled up next to sleeping Witch.
Youve finally lost the plot! Shed never survive! George objected.
I couldnt care less! Didnt we just have a fire?
You know, they do say black cats bring bad luck… came a feeble agreement.
No ones taking her anywhere. Dont be so childish, George snapped, and marched off.
Morning arrived. Charlie woke, stretched, and prepared to nuzzle Witch.
But she was gone.
He dug through the strawnothing. He charged out, prowling and barking hoarsely.
He spotted a black lump by the break roomand bolted towards it.
Only a plastic bag, crinkling in the wind.
The door swung open.
Whats this? Looking for your girlfriend? Dave sneered sweetly. Shes not here anymore. Off finding trouble somewhere else.
Charlie stared at him, searching his face for another meaning.
In fact… she wont make any more trouble. Shell last a day or two in the woods, if that.
Charlie said nothing. The howl of heartbreak stuck somewhere deep inside.
The first snowflakes fell. Each one settled, silent, on the unmoving dog.
From the day they took away what he treasured most, Charlie refused to go back in the kennel. He slept on bare ground, barely ate, and didnt react even to George anymore.
Charlie, shes in a much better place now, honestly. Its warm, its peaceful. Please, love, trust me? George would murmur, crouching beside him, gently stroking his battered coat.
If only I could be where she is… Can I go to her? Please? thought Charlie desperately.
The day before, Charlie had overheard snatches of conversation from strangers. They stood nearby, discussing him like an old boot. Said he was ancient and no use at all, that the yard needed a new, younger guard, and he should be put out to pasture…
Charlie couldnt remember the outcome. He didnt care. Nothing mattered anymore.
Snow kept falling, a white shroud slowly settling over his body. He closed his eyes at last.
Maybe this time, Ill never have to open them again. I dont want to… not if I can help it, fluttered the final thought through his drowsy, aching mind.
The world was falling away. Charlie barely felt his numb body, couldnt smell or even sense the wind. Yet in the thickening dusk, a familiar voice piped up:
Wake up, mate! Come on, up you get! Youre coming with me.
The rest was a blurGeorges warm car, the squashy back seat, the bumpy ride, the new whiffs drifting through the window.
Grief had left Charlie frail as an old rag. He drifted off to sleep in the car, the radios mellow tunes washing over him…
Hours later, they arrived. George helped Charlie out, holding him steady as he shuffled towards a house.
Youll live with me now, old boy.
Charlie couldnt muster much interest. But for Georges sake, he tried to wagnot convincingly. George seemed not to mind.
Itll be all right. Step inside, youll see, George said gently, holding the door.
Barely through the door, Charlies ears pricked up. That scentno, it couldnt be mistaken!
He was right.
From the windowsill, a sleek black cloud leapt and trotted over with purpose. Before she reached him, he knewWitch, his Witch.
Told you shed be somewhere safe, didnt I? George beamed. Did you really think Id stand by while those jobsworths dumped your best friend out on her ear?
But for the dog and cat, everything else melted awaythere were countless things to catch up on in their secret language.
When theyd finally finished their animal chitchat and lay down side by side at last, Charlie pondered: what did Witch actually mean, anyway?
Hed been about to ask, and then thoughtwhat does it matter? Witch is my friend. And that, after all, was all that mattered.
