Bubble’s final attempt

Thursday morning dawned bright, warm and suspiciously peaceful.

Experienced parents know that “peaceful” is often simply another word for “the children haven’t found the problem yet.”

Mrs Brand was already at the dining table with her laptop open, reading through a contract while balancing a mug of tea on a stack of legal papers. Mr Brand was upstairs on an early conference call.

“…Yes, absolutely… Let’s park that until this afternoon…”

Barry had often wondered where all these things that grown-ups “parked” actually went.

There must be an enormous car park somewhere in London containing difficult conversations, spreadsheets and budget meetings.

Marmaduke arrived just after eight, carrying a bowl of strawberries that Marjory had sent round.

“Morning!” he announced.

Mrs Brand smiled.

“Morning! Tell your mum thank you.”

“She said they’re from the farmer’s market.”

Barry immediately ate three.

“Excellent market.”

Alfie appeared with yet another library book.

“You’ve already started eating.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re helping yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Before breakfast was even finished, Barry remembered the guinea pigs.

“Cinnamon!”

“Pickles!”

He and Marmaduke shot into the conservatory.

Both guinea pigs were happily munching hay.

“They survived!” Barry announced.

“They were always going to survive,” said Alfie, following more slowly.

Barry lowered his voice dramatically.

“They’ve survived… Bubble.”

Pickles looked up from his breakfast as if to say, Can everyone stop talking about yesterday and bring more cucumber?

Meanwhile…

Three doors away…

Bubble was washing his paw with great concentration.

Cats always look as though they’re performing delicate surgery when cleaning themselves.

Marjory watched him from the kitchen window.

“You’ve given up then?”

Bubble blinked innocently.

“Oh, don’t give me that face.”

Bubble purred.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

Bubble purred louder.

“You think you’ve simply been delayed.”

Bubble’s tail twitched.

Marjory sighed.

“I wish you were as interested in catching the spider in my bathroom.”

Bubble considered this.

Spiders didn’t squeak.

No comparison.

After breakfast, Barry decided the guinea pigs deserved entertainment.

“They can’t just eat all day.”

“They’re guinea pigs,” Alfie replied.

“They absolutely can.”

Barry ignored him.

“We’ll build them a playground!”

Mrs Brand looked up from her computer.

“As long as it’s safe.”

“It’ll be brilliant.”

“They’re not always the same thing.”

Soon the boys were busy collecting cardboard tubes, small boxes, empty cereal packets and clean flowerpots.

Alfie inspected every piece.

“No staples.”

“No sharp edges.”

“No sticky tape they can chew.”

Barry sighed.

“You’re like Health and Safety.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t entirely a compliment.”

“I’ll take it anyway.”

Within an hour they had built what Barry proudly called…

“The Guinea Pig Adventure Park.”

It featured tunnels.

Tiny bridges.

A cardboard castle.

A lookout tower that immediately collapsed.

And a tunnel called “The Vegetable Express.”

Nobody knew why.

The guinea pigs seemed delighted.

Cinnamon explored every tunnel.

Pickles inspected every corner.

Barry applauded.

“They love it!”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“I think they do.”

Alfie quietly fixed the bridge for the third time.

Outside… Bubble had arrived.

Again.

He sat beneath the conservatory window.

Watching.

Calculating.

Waiting.

His ears twitched as he heard tiny squeaks.

Definitely still there.

Definitely worth investigating.

This time, however, Bubble wasn’t alone.

A noisy magpie landed on the fence.

It tilted its head.

Bubble looked at it.

The magpie looked back.

Neither trusted the other.

The magpie noticed something shiny inside the conservatory.

Mr Brand had left his reading glasses on the windowsill.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The magpie fluttered closer.

Bubble’s ears lifted.

The bird wasn’t interested in guinea pigs.

It wanted shiny things.

Bubble watched carefully.

An idea appeared.

Cats cannot speak.

Magpies cannot understand cats.

But somehow…

They reached the sort of understanding only animals can manage.

The magpie would distract the humans.

Bubble would investigate.

It was less a formal agreement and more two opportunists accidentally working the same shift.

Inside, Mr Brand had finally escaped his meetings.

“Coffee.”

He wandered into the kitchen.

Mrs Brand looked up.

“I’ve survived five meetings.”

“I’ve survived Barry building a cardboard motorway for guinea pigs.”

“I’d say we’re even.”

Tap!

Something struck the kitchen window.

Mr Brand jumped.

“What was that?”

The magpie.

Tap!

It hopped onto the windowsill.

Then…

To everyone’s amazement…

It picked up Mr Brand’s reading glasses.

“Oh!”

Mr Brand dashed outside.

“My glasses!”

The magpie flew onto the fence.

Mr Brand followed.

The magpie flew onto the shed.

Mr Brand followed.

The magpie flew into the apple tree.

Barry and Marmaduke cheered.

“It’s playing chase!”

“No,” laughed Alfie.

“You’re being robbed.”

Bubble decided…

This was his moment.

With everyone distracted in the garden…

He slipped quietly through the cat flap…

Across the utility room…

Past the washing machine…

Into the kitchen.

The conservatory door…

Had been left slightly open.

Just enough for a determined cat.

Bubble smiled the secret smile only cats possess.

Victory.

He padded silently inside.

The guinea pigs froze.

Pickles disappeared into his tunnel.

Cinnamon squeaked loudly.

Bubble crouched.

Barry happened to glance back.

His eyes widened.

“BUBBLE!”

Every head turned.

Bubble had made one tiny mistake.

He’d stepped onto a loose piece of cardboard.

It folded.

His front paws disappeared into the tunnel.

His back paws remained outside.

His dignity vanished entirely.

The entire Adventure Park collapsed around him.

Cardboard castles folded.

Bridges tipped over.

The Vegetable Express became the Vegetable Derailment.

Bubble emerged wearing half a cereal box around his neck like an embarrassing suit of armour.

Barry burst into laughter.

Marmaduke laughed so hard he had hiccups.

Even Alfie couldn’t help smiling.

Bubble stood absolutely still.

Cats believe that if they remain motionless after doing something ridiculous…

Nobody noticed.

Unfortunately…

Everyone had noticed.

Mr Brand picked Bubble up.

“You are persistent.”

Bubble looked offended.

Mrs Brand removed the cereal box.

“I think we’ve discovered his weakness.”

“Cereal?”

“No.”

“Cardboard engineering.”

Marjory was back later that evening and popped round after receiving Mrs Brand’s message.

She looked at Bubble before she left for the Brands’. 

“Did you lose a fight with a cardboard castle?”

Bubble refused to answer.

“You did, didn’t you,’ she said with a smirk! 

Three doors down, Barry nodded enthusiastically at Marjory. 

“The castle won.”

“I thought as much.”

That evening, Alfie had an idea.

“If Bubble keeps coming because he can smell them…”

“Yes?” said Mrs Brand.

“…perhaps we should move the guinea pigs into the spare room at night.”

“Excellent idea.”

“And Bubble can’t see them through the glass.”

Mrs Brand smiled proudly.

“Very sensible.”

Barry grinned.

“That’s why he’s Head of Health and Safety.”

“I’ll accept that.”

Before bedtime, Barry tucked a handful of fresh hay into Cinnamon’s cage.

“There you are.”

Marmaduke stroked Pickles in his cage, gently.

“No more cats today.”

The guinea pigs resumed eating immediately.

Barry laughed.

“They’re not worried anymore.”

Alfie looked at them thoughtfully.

“I think guinea pigs have the right idea.”

“What’s that?”

“When life gets stressful…”

“…have a snack.”

Mr Brand nodded solemnly.

“I’ve been using that strategy for years.”

Mrs Brand looked at him over the top of her book.

“We know.”

Later that evening, Bubble sat on Marjory’s garden wall looking towards the Brand house.

The lights slowly went out one by one.

The guinea pigs were safely upstairs.

The windows were shut.

The doors were locked.

The cardboard playground had been rebuilt stronger than before.

Bubble yawned.

Perhaps guinea pigs weren’t worth quite this much effort after all.

Just then…

Mousey the little garden mouse darted out from under the shed carrying an enormous sunflower seed.

Bubble’s ears swivelled.

Now that looked much more achievable.

Mousey spotted him.

“Oh, honestly,” Mousey would probably have muttered if mice could talk. “Has he finally remembered I exist?”

Bubble slipped silently off the wall.

The hunt was on once again.

Barry, safely tucked up in bed, smiled sleepily as he thought about Cinnamon, Pickles and Bubble.

“It was quite an exciting day,” he whispered.

From the next bed, Alfie replied,

“It was.”

There was a pause.

Then Barry added,

“I hope tomorrow is quieter.”

Downstairs, Mrs Brand looked at Mr Brand and quietly laughed.

“Did you hear that?”

“I did.”

“He said he hopes tomorrow will be quieter.”

Mr Brand smiled knowingly.

“After four years…”

“…he still doesn’t realise that saying things like that is almost guaranteed to make tomorrow absolutely chaotic.”

And, as if London itself had heard the challenge, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen.

Mr Brand sighed.

“What now?”

Mrs Brand peered through the doorway.

“The recycling.”

They looked at each other.

Then simultaneously said,

“Bubble.”