There He Goes Licking Again! Max, Get Him Away! Nina Glared at Barney, Hopelessly Bouncing at Her …

Hes licking himself again! David, get him away from there!

Sophie was staring at Alfie with a look of pure irritation, as he bounded mindlessly around her feet. How had they ended up with such a daft hound? Theyd spent ages thinking about what sort of dog to get, poring over every breed and talking to trainers. They knew how serious a commitment it was. In the end, they decided on a German Shepherdthey wanted a loyal friend, a watchful guardian, and a protector. All rolled into one, like a shampoo promising strength and shine. Only now, they found themselves having to rescue their protector from the local cats.

Hes still a pup! Give him some time, hell grow out of it, youll see.

I cant wait for that to happen, I really cant! Have you noticed he eats more than the both of us put together? How are we supposed to afford to feed this beast? And stop stomping about like that, youll wake the baby!Sophie grumbled, scooping up her shoes that Alfie had scattered all over the hallway.

They lived on the ground floor of a big old Georgian block on Kings Road in Chelsea, their windows practically level with the pavement. It was a great spotexcept for one thing. Their flat looked out onto a dead-end corner of the courtyard, the sort of place where shadows flickered in the evenings, blokes would gather to chat, and the odd scuffle broke out.

Most days, Sophie was home alone with newborn Emily. David headed off early to work at the Tate Britain, and in his spare time, scoured car boot sales and used bookshops. His expert eyeas Sophie teased, a perfect magpies eyewould spot rare bits of art, old books, and collectible odds and ends. David was a passionate collector, and somehow theyd accumulated a modest collection of paintings, with 1960s Wedgwood plates, socialist figurines, and early twentieth-century silver taking pride of place on the sideboard. Sophie sometimes felt anxious, being left alone with all those treasures and a small baby, especially with burglaries in the building happening more often than shed like.

Sophie, when do you think is best for me to take Alfie for a walk? Now, or after lunch?

I dont know Not really my dogs business, is it!

The moment Alfie heard walk, he hurtled into the hall so fast he nearly skidded into the console table, grabbed his lead and dashed back, almost launching himself up to the ceiling. Calling him a dog didnt quite cut ithe was more of a small horse. He loved everyone, would cuddle anyone, fetched his ball for whoever happened by; only guests were barred from stepping over the threshold. An openhearted, goofy soul, but theyd gotten him for protection! And he didnt even bother chasing the garden cats. Hed trot over, tail wagging, ball in mouth, keen as mustard for a gameonly to get scratched for his trouble. The local cats were proper hard nutsthose were the ones youd want for security, Sophie thought. Tomorrow shed be alone again, with David off all day at Henley for a painting festival, leaving her to guard the crockery and walk the floppy-eared oaf. Not exactly the life shed pictured.

Dawn broke and David got up quietly, trying not to wake Sophie. Not that it worked: she heard the kettle bubbling, the jangle of the lead, David hissing at Alfie to keep it down. She drifted back off to sleep to these gentle morning sounds, only to wake later to Emilys criesDavid already gone. The day ticked on in its usual way: peaceful, steady, domestic. Wasnt this happiness, after all? Her friends sighed over her early marriage, how she juggled a husband and baby, how the routines were pulling her under. But werent these small rituals full of charm? So what if not everything had worked out exactly as shed dreamed? She sometimes tired of Davids long absences, the cramped space, never quite enough money, and especially, his all-consuming hobby that burned through so much cash. And now there was Alfie, another mouth to feedwhich Sophie had to manage. Still, she understood: you have to love people with all their quirks and flaws. No one promised perfection. Once she truly accepted that, she let herself focus on what she had, not what was missing.

Sitting in Emilys nursery, feeding her drowsy daughter, Sophie cherished these quiet spells. Someone rang the doorbell, but she didnt answerno one was expected, and no one in London would pop in unannounced. These precious morning hours, she thought, how she loved them! The house was calm, the only sound an old grandfather clock ticking in the hallway, and the familiar city murmur drifting in on the breeze: distant double-deckers, a cabs engine, the gentle scrape of someone sweeping the pavement, childrens voices But where was Alfie? Hed been unusually quiet. He wasnt really floppy-eared at allhis ears were straight up, just he had that daft look. Shed landed herself with this daft dogfeeding and walking him for nothing. Honestly, theyd have been better off with a spaniel.

She watched Emily fall happily asleep, all warm and soft after a feed. My little treasure, Sophie murmured, tucking her in, just keep growing What more could we want?

And then from the sitting room came a funny noise. Not quite a crack, not quite a squeak. Sophie paused and listened. It came again. Barely breathing, she slipped off her slippers and crept towards the sound. The first thing she saw was Alfies back. He was hiding behind the curtain that separated the hallway from the lounge, crouched low, utterly focused, tongue out, eyes trained on the room.

Tracing Alfies line of sight, Sophies heart froze. Through the open window, halfway wedged in, was a man. Shaved head, muscley arms, hoodie sleeves rolled uphe was struggling and groaning, trying to squirm the rest of his wiry frame through. Sophie could hardly believe itthis sort of thing didnt happen to her! What was she supposed to do? Shout? He was nearly inside, just another second and

A scream burst from her. A black streak shot across the roomAlfie. He leapt up onto the window ledge and, in a flash, clamped his jaws around the intruders neck! Aaargh! the man roared, eyes bulging. Sophie darted out to summon the neighbours; after that, things felt less frightening. People flooded in and called the police. Even if no one had a clue what to actually do, their presence alone was a comfort. What would she have done on her own? Forcing herself not to panic, Sophie got close enough to the man to keep an eye on Alfieheaven forbid Alfie actually hurt him! Thankfully, Alfie had grabbed hold by the collar, clamping firmly but gentlynot a single spot of blood. Every time the man tried to struggle free, Alfie tightened his hold. When the man stilled and gave up, Alfie relaxed a little. How on earth did he know to do that? That goofy ball-fetching dog was acting like a pro. Hed heard a disturbance and instead of barking, staked out a spot and lay in wait. Hed let the burglar get firmly stuck before springing into actionbiting exactly the right spot, not crushing, not hurtingjust holding on as if to say, Youre not going anywhere, mate. The laws on its way.

Even the most seasoned police officers later couldnt remember a burglar being so relieved to be arrested. The poor bloke was beside himself with gratitude just to be rescued from Alfies mouthwhereas Alfie was having the time of his life, basking in praise, until a dog handler arrived and gave him a sharp, practiced command. Only then did Alfie let go, sit by the window and gaze up at the handler as if to say, What next, boss? Im ready! If he could have saluted, he would.

Lucky you with a dog like that, the officer said, giving Alfie a stately rub behind the ears. Wish we had one like him on the force

David came home late that night, unlocking the door to find an astonishing sight: Alfie sprawled across the sofa in a spot he was strictly forbidden from, legs in the air, eyes blissed out, while Sophie rubbed his tummy and whispered sweet nothings: You little star, my darling, my brave boy! Grow up big and strong, sweetheart! Oh, Ive been so unfair to you, havent I? Dont hold it against me

This whole story was told to me once at a painting festival by none other than David himself, the art historian. If Alfie could have told it, it wouldve been even more dramatic: how he tracked, how he pounced, how he handed the bad guy over to the coppers. It all happened a while back, but the tale stuck with me. I could almost feel Alfie pawing at my memory, eager for his moment on paper, and so I finally thought Id share it with you now.