The Little Book of Bob

by James Bowen

  James Bowen is the author of the bestselling A Street Cat Named Bob and The World According to Bob . He found Bob the cat in 2007 and the pair have been inseparable ever since. They both live in London.

  Also by James Bowen

  A Street Cat Named Bob

  The World According to Bob

  Bob: No Ordinary Cat

  For the Love of Bob

  Where in the World is Bob?

  My Name is Bob

  A Gift from Bob

  The Little Book of Bob

  James Bowen

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © James and Bob Ltd and Connected Content Ltd 2018

  The right of James Bowen and Garry Jenkins to be identified as the

  Author of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance with

  the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Illustrations © Dan Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

  means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be

  otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that

  in which it is published and without a similar condition being

  imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  Hardback ISBN 978 1 473 68829 2

  eBook ISBN 978 1 473 68830 8

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

  To Ron Richardson, always there for me, no matter what.

  Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.

  Marcus Aurelius

  I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.

  Hippolyte Taine

  Contents

  Introduction

  PART ONE: In Bob We Trust – Lessons in Friendship

  PART TWO: It’s a Bob’s Life – What We Need to Be Happy

  PART THREE: Being Bob – How to Get the Most Out of Life

  PART FOUR: Bob vs the World – How to Survive All That Life Throws at Us

  PART FIVE: The Zen of Bob – How to Be Good to Ourselves

  PART SIX: The University of Bob – Lessons in Day-to-Day Life

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Like most people, I’ve made bad choices in my life. More than a few of them.

  My decision to adopt a ginger street cat named Bob definitely wasn’t one, however. Quite the opposite; I’d say it was the wisest move I’ve ever made. In many ways, we saved each other. He had been injured when I found him in the spring of 2007 and I’d nursed him back to health.

  He certainly rescued me. When I look back on it, my life had been a real mess before I met him. For a decade or more, I’d been an addict and had spent an extended period homeless, sleeping rough or in shelters. I had been down to my last chance – on my ninth life, if you like. I credit him with helping me to turn things around.

  I’ve often thought about the life Bob led before we met. To judge by the wounds on his body when I met him, he’d been living a precarious existence. He had obviously got himself into a few scrapes. But how had he lived from day to day? Had he always been a street cat? Or had someone else looked after him before me? I had no idea.

  Throughout our time together he has remained a puzzle. An enigma.

  One thing I have known from the very beginning, however, is that he possesses a wisdom that is unusual, even in cats.

  I don’t know if this has anything to do with lessons he learned during that earlier, mysterious life, but it’s as if he is some ancient philosopher who understands everything and everyone around him. As if he’s seen it all before. Knows life inside out. Nothing seems to faze him. He takes everything in his stride.

  In the decade since we met, he’s grown even wiser, in my eyes. My life has changed quite dramatically during that time, thanks to a series of memoirs about our life together and then a movie, A Street Cat Named Bob . He has adapted to the changes that have occurred in our fortunes with ease. He is as comfortable meeting people at book signings or film premieres as he was sitting on the pavement while I strummed my guitar in Covent Garden or sold The Big Issue outside the tube station at the Angel in north London.

  I know it might sound strange or even slightly silly to say this about a cat, but I find him inspirational. Sometimes, simply sitting down and watching him is enough to set my mind whirring away. I’m fascinated by the way he conducts himself, the way he interacts with the world and responds to different situations. Even the way he lives his day-to-day routine. Being with him has opened my eyes to so much. Provoked so many thoughts. For the past ten years or more, he has genuinely been a kind of guru to me.

  This book is a collection of some of the experiences and insights I’ve gained during my years with Bob. A guide to his street wisdom, if you like. I hope it helps you as much as he has helped me.

  James Bowen

  London, 2018

  PART ONE

  In Bob We Trust – Lessons in Friendship

  People often say that humans don’t adopt cats; it’s more a case of them adopting us. I suspect that is probably true. They are highly intelligent animals, after all. And deep down, I have a hunch they are smart enough to understand something that we humans too often overlook – the all-important value of friendship. I’ve certainly grown to appreciate it more – thanks to Bob.

  Friendship Is a Pair of New Boots

  Bob was a pretty rough-and-ready character when he came to live with me.

  He didn’t take kindly to being told off and could be a real handful if I stopped him from doing something. Before I had him neutered, he would lash out and scratch me. My hands bore the scars of his occasional tantrums.

  I’d be lying if I said his behaviour didn’t annoy me at times. But I had formed an instant affection for him and wanted our relationship to work.

  At that time, I remember, I’d just bought myself a pair of black, army-style boots, from a local charity store. My old pair had literally fallen apart. The new pair did not quite fit me properly; the boots were a bit tight and had started to chafe and blister my feet. The best part of the day was taking them off.

  It was as I slipped off the boots and let my feet breathe one evening, that it struck me.

  Bob was pacing the flat, looking a little agitated. Earlier that evening, he had hissed at me when I’d tried to encourage him to use the litter tray I had brought into the house.

  He was bound to feel uneasy with me and his new home, I thought to myself. Things I did were bound to rub him up the wrong way. But with patience, we would mould our friendship to fit each other’s personality. We would get used to each other and our very different ways.

  Our friendship was actually no different to my new pair of boots. It was going to take time. There would be some discomfort. We’d irritate each other. But in the end, we’d fit each other just fine. And so it proved.

  Free Spirits

  The moment I knew Bob and I were destined to be together came, one unforgettable day, when he jumped on the bus to travel with me into London.

  I had been flabbergasted. I’d shooed him away after he’d followed me to the bus stop from my flat and, as the bus had pulled away, had assumed he’d been left behind on the pavement. But suddenly, there he was, sitting on the seat next to me, curled u
p next to my guitar case as if he too was part of my luggage.

  The bus conductor had smiled at me and asked me whether he was mine.

  ‘I guess he must be,’ I’d replied at the time, but I’d quickly come to realise that wasn’t quite the case.

  Bob is a force of nature, a free spirit. He wasn’t mine. He wasn’t a possession. I didn’t own him then, nor do I own him now. We’ve chosen to be together in the present. But who knows whether we will be in the future? He will always be my friend, but he’s free to leave whenever he wants.

  I think that freedom is a key to any true friendship.

  We Are All Stronger Together

  I was cooking dinner one night, a few weeks after Bob and I got together. I was making spaghetti bolognese. Bob was curled up in the corner, watching me.

  I’d put some music on the radio, boiled some water and was unwrapping the pack of dried spaghetti when the thought came to me. It was a distant memory from childhood, of a fable or fairytale about an old man teaching his children a valuable lesson using a bundle of sticks.

  ‘See this, Bob,’ I said, snapping a single strand of spaghetti, before dropping it into the pan of boiling water on the hob.

  ‘That’s you and me before we were friends. When we were on our own.’

  I then picked up a thick bunch of spaghetti, bending it one way then the other, but failing to break it in half.

  ‘And that’s you and me now.’

  He tilted his head at me as if I was slightly mad. I wasn’t, of course. I’d never said a wiser word.

  Bob could have been spending that night out on the streets. Cold, lonely and hungry. Similarly, I could still have been living hand-to-mouth as a homeless addict. Without any focus or goal in my life. But the fact was, we weren’t. We’d found each other. And we were better, safer and healthier for it.

  We are all stronger together than we are apart.

  The Truest of Friends

  People are always fascinated by the special bond that exists between Bob and me. How did we come to form such strong ties? I’ve come to understand that the answer is quite simple.

  We live in a world where it’s hard to have faith in very much at all. Politicians, institutions, people – they all seem to let us down at one time or another. I certainly felt that way. A lot of my troubles were self-inflicted, but they were also rooted in broken relationships and the feeling that I’d been unloved.

  Our relationships with our pets offer an alternative. We can rely on them. They don’t lie to us. They don’t cheat on us. They don’t let us down. Their affection for us – call it love, if you like – is unconditional.

  Knowing that friendship is always there for you is not only an immense comfort. It is a source of strength, too.

  A Friend in Need

  Everyone has fair-weather friends. They are present when the times are good. Always around to share in the celebrations, the parties, the easy stuff. But when – as inevitably happens – life enters choppier waters, these people melt into the background, or worse, disappear altogether. That’s not a true friend. A true friend is there for you in times of need. When there’s nothing to be gained. Or worse. Something to be lost.

  There were times when Bob was totally independent, happy to be left to his own devices. He would sleep where he wanted, when he wanted. He explored my flat and the wider world as he pleased.

  But he also had an ability to know when he was needed. I spotted it first when I picked up a bad cold, a few weeks after we’d got together. I’d been lying in bed, coughing and spluttering away, feeling pretty sorry for myself. I’d noticed him curled up close to me, just a few feet away from my face. He was purring away rhythmically. It immediately comforted me.

  Apart from anything else, it made me feel like I wasn’t alone. The purring was rather soothing, too. But there was something else, a sense of companionship, a feeling that was unusual for me – of my life being shared with someone else.

  He has retained this habit. He’s always attentive when I feel low. Instinctively, he seems to know when it is time for him to be a friend.

  I’ve come to see that friendship is like this. It is not about being there every moment of the day – it’s about being there when it matters.

  The Same Path

  It is much more difficult for someone to understand the journey you have undertaken if they haven’t walked down the same path as you. That’s why the strongest friendships are often forged in the same fire. The tougher the times you’ve been through, the tighter the ties that bind you.

  That’s certainly the case with Bob and me.

  We’ve been through so much together. Bad times and good times. We have travelled so far down that same road that our paths rarely diverge. It’s probably why, since meeting, we have never gone our separate ways.

  True Friends Just Understand

  We all have bad days. We all experience times when, for whatever reason, everything seems out of sorts. The world seems off-kilter.

  Often you can’t explain it. Nor do you want to. You simply want to close the door and forget about everyone and everything. Call it what you want: depression, the blues, a bad-hair day. It all amounts to the same thing.

  At times like this, I’ve noticed that Bob’s friendship is subtly different. Sometimes, I won’t even be aware he is present. He will tuck himself under the chair or the bed, near me. On stand-by.

  It’s as if he’s sensitive to my mood; as if he knows I need space, but that I also need watching. He seems to understand.

  Again, I’ve come to see that’s the mark of a true friend. They grasp instinctively that sometimes you don’t want endless questions about what has upset you. You don’t want to have to explain yourself. You just want someone to understand your mood – and nothing else.

  Sometimes You Need to Lose Something to Appreciate It

  A few years ago, I had to spend a period in hospital after developing DVT, deep vein thrombosis, a painful condition in my leg. I was still young, not even thirty at that point, but lying restlessly in bed for hours on end was a real wake-up call. It made me realise I’d taken my health for granted. I’d assumed that I was invincible, that I would always be fit and well, despite the obvious damage I’d done to myself as an addict living on the streets.

  To my surprise, the absence of Bob hit me almost as hard. He had become my ever-present companion by that point. Always there to cheer me up.

  As a result, I missed him really badly when I was in hospital. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t come along and visit me.

  When I was discharged, that first night back in my flat with him was as big a boost to my spirits as any doctor’s diagnosis or any medicine they could have dispensed for me in the hospital. Any spell away from him now reminds me of that time, and reinforces my appreciation of how lucky I am to have him in my life.

  Sometimes – as with your health – you have to lose someone’s friendship in order to appreciate its true value.

  Friends Can Be a Good Influence

  Bob and I were on the London underground, heading home one evening. There must have been a football match going on, because the tube carriage was crowded with rowdy fans wearing scarves and shirts. We were squeezed next to a group of them – four young lads – who were in pretty lively mood.

  We had just pulled off from a station when one of them started chanting his team’s name really loudly, within inches of me. His shouts caught Bob completely by surprise, but he dealt with it as most hard-bitten London commuters would. He arched his back briefly then turned away from them, nuzzling his head into my coat, as if switching off from the hubbub around him.

  I hadn’t had the greatest day and wasn’t impressed by the lad’s behaviour,

  ‘Can you not do that. It’s scaring my cat,’ I said, as politely as I could.

  The four lads looked bemused. They exchanged glances and then laughed. They probably couldn’t believe they’d been ticked off by a man with a cat on his shoulder. But to be fair,
they nodded at me as if in acknowledgment. They remained reasonably well-behaved until they got off the train, leaving me and Bob to ourselves.

  A few years earlier, I would definitely have been more vocal. I might even have lost my temper. But tonight, I’d taken the view they were just young lads. They weren’t doing any harm. I had bitten my tongue and let it go. I’d cut them some slack. I had a feeling I had Bob to thank for that.

  He had helped me to see the world differently. Given me someone else to care for, someone else to think about. A responsibility that I hadn’t really experienced before. And, perhaps without me even thinking about it, he had made me less self-centred. Kinder, more thoughtful, too.

  Friends Are Free to Make Fools of Themselves

  Every now and again, Bob will do something totally unpredictable. He might – for no apparent reason – decide to drape himself across the back of the sofa, stretching himself out in the most physically impossible position imaginable, seeming to defy the laws of gravity as he sleeps. Equally, he might suddenly start jumping and chasing around the room as if in pursuit of a fly or a wasp. His target is completely invisible – to me, at least.

  If it were someone I didn’t know well, I might worry. I might fret about the fact that he was acting out of character. That he’s not the cat I once thought he was. But I don’t. Because it’s Bob, my best friend – I don’t bat an eyelid.

  I don’t sit there analysing what has got into him, wondering whether there’s some deep psychological issue. I watch and laugh. (Unless he’s really doing damage to the furniture, of course.)