A Street Cat Named Bob

As I settled into my set I was much more relaxed than twenty-four hours earlier. I think having Bob there the previous day had thrown me a bit, psychologically. I’d been used to having to engage and draw in the crowds myself. It had been hard work. Eking out every penny was tough. With Bob it was different. The way he’d sucked in the audience for me had been a bit odd at first. I’d also felt very responsible for him with so many people around. Covent Garden - like the rest of London - has its share of weirdoes. I was terrified that someone would just grab him and run off with him.

But that day felt different, however. That day I felt like we were safe, like we kind of belonged here.

As I began singing and the coins started tinkling into the case at the same rate as the previous day, I thought to myself: I’m enjoying this.

It had been a long time since I’d said that.

By the time we headed home three hours later my rucksack was once more jangling with the weight of coins. We’d collected well over sixty pounds again.

This time I wasn’t going to spend it on an expensive curry. I had more practical uses for the money. The following day the weather was even worse, with the forecast of really heavy rain that night.

So I decided to spend some time on Bob rather than busking. If he was going to hang out with me on a regular basis then I needed to have better equipment for him. I couldn’t walk around with him attached to a leash made out of a shoelace. Apart from anything else, it was uncomfortable - not to mention dangerous.

Bob and I hopped on a bus and headed off in the direction of Archway. I knew the north London branch of the Cats Protection charity was there.

Bob seemed to sense immediately that this wasn’t the same route we’d taken the previous couple of days. Every now and again he would turn and look at me as if to say: ‘So, where are you taking me today?’ He wasn’t anxious, just curious.

The Cats Protection shop was a smart, modern place with all sorts of equipment, toys and books about cats. There were loads of free pamphlets and brochures on every aspect of caring for a cat - from microchipping to toxoplasmosis, diet tips to neutering advice. I picked up a few for future reading.

There were only a couple of people working there and the place was quiet. So they couldn’t resist coming over for a chat as I took a look around with Bob sitting on my shoulder.

‘He’s a good-looking boy isn’t he?’ one lady said, stroking Bob. He could tell he was in safe hands because he was leaning his body into her as she smoothed his coat and cooed over him.

We then fell into a conversation about how Bob and I had met. I then explained what had happened the previous two days. Both women smiled and nodded.

‘A lot of cats like to go out for a walk with their owners,’ one told me. ‘They like to go for a walk in the park or for a short stroll down the street. But I have to say Bob’s a bit unusual isn’t he?’

‘He is,’ her friend said. ‘I think you’ve got yourself a bit of a jewel there. He’s obviously decided to attach himself to you.’

It was nice to hear them confirming what, deep down, I knew already. Every now and again, I had a little pang of doubt about whether I should try harder to put him back on the streets, whether I was doing the right thing in keeping him in the flat with me. Their words were a real boost for me.

What I didn’t know, however, was how best to manage Bob if he was going to be my constant companion on the streets of London. It wasn’t the safest of environments, to put it mildly. Apart from the obvious traffic, there were all sorts of potential threats and dangers out there.

‘The best thing you can do is to get a harness like this,’ one of the ladies said, unhooking a nice-looking blue, woven nylon harness, collar and matching lead.

She explained the pros and cons of it.

‘It’s not a great idea just to fix a leash to a cat collar. The worst collars can harm your cat’s neck and even choke the cat. And the problem with the better quality collars is that they are made from elastic or are what they call “breakaway” collars so that the cat can escape if the collar gets caught on something. There’s a good chance that at some point you’ll have an empty leash dangling in your hand,’ the lady explained. ‘I think you would be much better off with a cat harness and a leash, especially given you are out all the time,’ she said.

‘Isn’t it going to feel funny for him?’ I asked. ‘It’s not going to feel natural.’

‘You’ll need to ease him into it,’ she agreed. ‘It might take you a week or so. Start him off wearing it for a few minutes a day before you are ready to go outside together. Then build it up from there.’ She could see me mulling it over. ‘Why not try it on him?’

‘Why not?’ I said.

Bob was sitting comfortably and didn’t offer too much resistance, although I could tell that he was uncertain about what was happening.

‘Just leave it on him and let him get used to the sensation of having it on his body,’ the lady said.