Arch Enemies

Sworn Enemies

I had barely settled down for a nap when the thunderous barking of my dog crashed through the open window. Normally, Berties quiet as a church mouse, but today he was in fine voice it started at dawn and hasnt let up since. Not just barking, but the sort that makes your hair stand on end.

Id already dashed outside several times, but hadnt spotted anything suspicious. Figured perhaps it was neighbours dogs scampering about, provoking Bertie. He certainly hates anyone getting too close to his turf. Its hardly a surprise that by the time Id made it out the door, nobody was left nearby. Any sensible creature would beat a hasty retreat at Berties racket; the neighbours mutts likely scattered before I even came out.

Of course, they might not know that my furry bear, as I often dubbed him, was confined to his kennel for most of the day. I always kept him in there safer for everyone, really. But come sundown, Id let him roam free. If anyone strayed onto our property then well, they only had themselves to blame.

Once, three hapless thieves from the next village tried sneaking onto our plot. One lost his trousers they got snagged on the gate spikes. Another, his trainer under the fence. The third ended up climbing to the very top of an old oak, refusing to budge. The local bobby had to call the fire brigade to rescue him. Bertie gave them such a fright, I doubt theyll ever forget.

One thing about Bertie he never barked without cause. But today, he seemed positively possessed.

Bertie, honestly, must you? I called out, rising from bed and stepping to the window.

He stopped, only to resume his fervent barking moments later. I strode out into the garden to see what had ruffled my gigantic English Sheepdog so badly.

As Id suspected, the place was deserted. The moment Bertie saw me, he fell silent.

Well, whats all this singing, then? I smiled, approaching the kennel.

Bertie wagged his tail so hard it looked like half his body was moving, shooting me a sheepish glance. He knew hed interrupted my rest, but he never barked without reason. This time, he glanced at the gate and launched into another furious barking fit.

I whipped around, just in time to spot something small and grey darting away at lightning pace. Rushing to the gate, I dashed into the street and saw

just a regular cat, bold as brass.

The look it gave me full of cheek and outright confidence. What are you doing here, mate? I chuckled. As a man to a cat best not linger, Berties not fond of felines. If he catches you

The cat sniffed disdainfully, and I could have sworn it smirked.

“Catch me? He wont even get out of his kennel before Im over the fence. Your dog needs fewer biscuits,” its gaze seemed to say.

I admit, I was a bit put out by how this alley cat quietly, yet elegantly, insulted my dog.

Go on, off you pop! I shooed him, then stepped back into the garden and locked the gate.

Did the cat obey? Of course not. Instead, it started visiting daily. It casually wandered around the garden, sat near Berties kennel, projecting pure ownership he acted as if he was lord and master and cared not a jot for anyone. All Bertie could do was bark endlessly at him.

Id rush out to chase off the whiskered intruder, but as soon as I went back indoors, the persistent tabby would slip back in.

There was nothing I could do to stop him.

After this little victory, the cat felt like the king of the garden. Once, it even nicked a chunk of meat from Berties bowl which was inside the kennel, no less. Bertie lay in the corner, worn out from barking, so the grey cat seized its chance.

Then, with remarkable audacity, it munched the meat right in front of Bertie.

I saw this myself and felt a wave of indignation rise in my chest.

So thats how you want it I muttered under my breath. Dont worry, pal, Ill give you something to regret. My dog will have his revenge yet.

I decided to stop locking Bertie in the kennel during the day. Or rather, Id leave the door ajar, so he could push it open with his big paw whenever necessary and dash out into the garden.

“Time to restore order,” I thought.

The cat was really wearing me out, not to mention driving Bertie wild. We deserved some peace.

But, strangely enough, the day we prepared for the cats arrival, it failed to show up. Maybe it sensed something. It didnt come the next day either. Nor the day after that.

Bertie looked at me, mystified. I just shrugged. What could I say?

Maybe its good the cats stopped coming, I smiled. Nice and quiet now.

Truth be told, I was fibbing a little.

I missed the mischievous tabby. It sounds mad, but there it is.

And Bertie, too, had gotten used to barking at his old nemesis, protesting at all its antics.

Now? Dull, really.

After several days, Bertie began asking me to look for the cat nearby.

Asking, mind you, with his eyes. Hed come to me, stare silently, and I knew exactly what he wanted.

“Worried somethings happened to our little troublemaker?” I asked. “With the attitude its got, its no wonder. Well, Bertie, lets have a wander and see if the rascals about.”

I opened the gate, stepped into the street, stopped by my car and peered about.

Bertie followed, sniffing the air eagerly, hoping to catch a whiff of that familiar, and despised, cat scent.

But all he could smell was fertiliser wafting from next door.

We wandered up and down the road, then returned to the gate. I was about to usher Bertie back inside we couldnt stand around all day waiting for a cat that had tormented us for weeks.

Just as my hand touched the gate, I froze, glancing left.

Something odd was happening nearby. I clearly heard a frantic yowling, and somewhere, a dog barking with equal fury.

A minute later, the cat burst onto the road the grey rogue himself, limping badly. And hot on his heels, a dog.

Not a common local mutt, but a Doberman a pedigree house dog from town.

I knew whose it was: every year, the family from London come down for the summer, sometimes even winter, with their dog. This Doberman belonged to them. Seems the cheeky cat tried to wind up the townie like he did Bertie, but things went awry.

The Doberman must have bitten him there were brownish stains in the cats fur.

While I watched the cat stagger toward me, I completely forgot about Bertie.

He, without waiting for permission something hed never dared before charged forward.

Bertie! Where are you off to?! I cried, picturing calamity. The cat already got a mauling from the Doberman, now Bertie would only add to his woes. Bertie, stop!

But Bertie paid no attention. He sped up, headed straight for the cat.

The cat noticed, froze in terror, right in the middle of the road.

It must have realised its carefree days and sturdy health were hanging by a thread a whisker, really.

And you know what happened next? Of course you do. Only I was still clueless at the time.

Bertie halted next to the petrified cat, sniffed him, then

then, with a roar fit for a lion (or perhaps a bear), he launched himself not at the cat, but at the Doberman chasing him.

He sent the Doberman packing right down the street. Luckily for the Doberman, quick reflexes meant it spun round, ears flattened, and fled otherwise Bertie wouldve made a right mess of him.

The cat quickly slipped away as I watched Bertie chase off the Doberman. I didnt even notice when the rascal escaped. That evening, as I walked outside to feed Bertie, I nearly dropped the bowl the cat was back. Alive, well, and eyes full of gratitude. He rested his head on Berties haunch and mumbled something under his breath. Bertie gave me a look that sent me into fits of laughter.

Sorry, mate, but I rescued him, so now Ive got to look after him forever, Berties look seemed to say.

And it wasnt a joke.

Bertie was ready to be the grey tabby’s personal bodyguard.

He even let the tabby share his food bowl unheard-of generosity from such a stoic, formidable dog. Somehow, the cat melted his heart. Now, they were no longer sworn enemies but loyal friends.

If you think that’s where the story ends, you’re mistaken.

In fact, I took the cat to the vet in town for his wounded leg. It was bad, needed stitches. After the op, the cat stayed with me for recovery.

I kept an eye on him, and Bertie never let him out of sight. Not long ago, they were ready to tear him apart funny how life goes.

Then, a few weeks later, a lovely young woman appeared at our gate.

Bertie was about to bark, but realised hed only frighten her, so he gave a few tentative woofs. I heard and rushed out.

H-h-hello I stammered, faced with the charming stranger. May I help you?

She explained she was searching for her missing grey cat.

Maybe he wandered into your garden? Hes frightfully cheeky, honestly. I tried keeping him indoors, but my Percy always slips out and lurks about until evening. Hes used to city flats, but Im staying here with Mum shes recovering from a stroke and Percys gone wild. Hed always come home, Id bathe him, feed him, but he disappeared these last few days, and Ive been worried sick.

I think I know where your Percy is, I said, smiling. Do come in. Dont mind Bertie; he wont harm you. Go on.

To your dog? Why?

Youll see.

She hesitated, but my friendly manner did the trick. Approaching Bertie, she gasped when she saw who was curled up next to him.

Percy! How did you…? What happened?! she exclaimed, noticing the bandaged limb and thigh. She glanced at me, Was it your dog who bit him?

No, no, I said, embarrassed. Actually, we saved him.

Saved? From what?

If youve a moment, I can tell you the whole story. Its quite a tale.

So I explained everything to Emily (we introduced ourselves as we talked), and she laughed herself silly.

My word Percy tormented you both for ages, yet you rescued him after all.

Thats Bertie and me for you softies at heart, I grinned. The good news is your cats on the mend in body and spirit. Hes turned into a real charmer, no longer a nuisance.

He always was sweet Maybe the fresh country airs got to him. Or perhaps hes sulking because I havent had time for him lately. Caring for Mum teaching her to walk again its slow going.

Well, youre welcome to visit, if you like, I said shyly. Bring Percy along.

Ill think about it, Emily replied with a twinkle.

Half a year later, the whole village celebrated our wedding mine and Emilys. Percy and Bertie were, naturally, guests of honour. Even the Doberman came, the one whod bitten Percys leg.

He recognised Percy, gave him a wary look at first, but when Bertie caught his eye, he quickly pretended hed made a mistake. Thats how it all beganAs the sun set on that joyous day, Bertie lounged on the grass with Percy nestled beside him, both wearing floral garlands crafted by the children. Emilys mother smiled, cane in hand, watching the unlikely duo share Berties dinnerPercy even tried to teach him to lick cream off a saucer, to everyone’s amusement.

When the music struck up and villagers danced, Bertie and Percy circled the crowd, partners in mischief, tails waving, guardians of each others hearts. The Doberman, chastened and polite, slunk by for a sniff, then trotted off, leaving the new friends in peace.

As dusk painted the fields gold, Emily slipped her hand in mine. Life surprises us, doesnt it? Enemies can become family.

I glanced at Bertie and Percy, peaceful and contentonce adversaries, now inseparable. With laughter echoing under stars, the garden brimmed with warmth and possibility.

Sometimes, all it takes is a dash of troubleand a bit of barkingto discover who truly belongs beside you. For Bertie and Percy, for Emily and me, there were no enemies leftonly friends, and home.