A Street Cat Named Bob

They turned to see me and the moment I said the word ‘cat’ their faces lit up.

‘A ginger tom?’ one of them said.

‘Yes, he’s got a collar and lead.’

‘He’s round the back here,’ one of them said, gesturing for me to come in and shut the door.

‘That’s why we shut the door,’ the other one said. ‘We didn’t want him to get run over.’

‘We figured someone was looking for him because of the lead.’

They led me towards a row of open wardrobes filled with fancy-looking clothes. I noticed the prices on some of them. Each one cost more money than I’d make in a month. But then, in the corner of one of the wardrobes, curled up in a ball, I saw Bob.

As time had slowed down during the past few minutes, a part of me had wondered whether he was trying to get away from me. Maybe he’d had enough of me? Maybe he didn’t want the life I offered him any more? So when I approached him I was prepared for him to bolt again and run off. But he didn’t.

I’d barely whispered softly, ‘Hey Bob, it’s me’, before he jumped straight into my arms.

All my fears about him wanting rid of me evaporated as he purred deeply and rubbed himself against me.

‘You gave me such a scare there, mate,’ I said, stroking him. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’

I looked up and saw that the two shopkeepers were standing nearby watching. One of them was dabbing her eyes, close to tears.

‘I’m so glad you found him,’ she said. ‘He looked like such a lovely cat. We were wondering what we’d do with him if no one showed up before closing time.’

She came closer and stroked Bob for a moment as well. We then chatted for a couple of minutes as she and her colleague got ready to close the till and started preparing to shut up shop for the evening.

‘Bye, Bob,’ the pair said as we headed off back into the throng around Piccadilly Circus with Bob perched on my shoulder again.

When I got back to Ripley’s I discovered - to my mild amazement – that my guitar was still there. Maybe the security guy at the door had kept an eye on it. Or perhaps one of the community support officers in the area had made sure it was safe. At the time there was a mobile police unit next to us. All the police and community support people loved Bob. He had become very popular with the police. I had no idea who the Good Samaritan was but to be honest I didn’t care. I was just glad that Bob and I were reunited.

I wasted no time in gathering up my stuff and calling it a night. We’d not made enough money but that wasn’t my biggest concern. I stopped at a general store and, with most of the cash I had on me, bought myself a little belt clip that I attached, first to me then to his lead. It would make sure that we remained connected all the time. On the bus rather than sitting on the seat next to me as usual, he sat on my lap. He could be an inscrutable chap but at other times I knew exactly what Bob was thinking. Tonight was one of those occasions. We were together, and neither of us wanted that to change.

Chapter 10 Santa Paws

During those first few days and weeks after the drama at Piccadilly, Bob and I clung to each other like two survivors hanging on to a life raft at sea. We’d both been badly shaken by the incident.

It made me think long and hard about our friendship. For a while I kept wondering whether his escape had been a signal that he wanted to put some distance between us. Deep down I knew that if he wanted to go back on to the streets - or wherever it was he came from - ultimately there was nothing I could, or should, do to stop him.

I’d even thought through what I should do if he showed any sign of wanting to run away again. If he did, and I managed to catch him before he disappeared altogether, I decided I’d give him away to the RSPCA or Battersea Dogs and Cats Home where they had a really nice cattery. I didn’t want to be his gaoler. He had been too good a friend to me for me to curtail his freedom. He didn’t deserve that.

Thankfully though, it hadn’t come to that.

Once or twice since the incident, he had elected not to go out with me. When I had got the harness out in the morning he had run behind the sofa or hid under the table to tell me he wasn’t up for it. I’d left him to it. But in the main he had been happy to come out every day. And when he had, he had been a slightly different character, more attentive to me but, in a strange way, also more relaxed.

Despite what had happened at Piccadilly Circus, he wasn’t as frightened in crowds as he had been occasionally in the past. Maybe this was because I now had him clipped to my belt and kept a tighter hold on his lead when he was out. The truth was that I think he felt closer to me now. Our bond had been put to the test - and survived. I got the impression that now he wanted to stay by my side more strongly than ever.