by James Bowen
Don’t Let a Bad Yesterday Spoil a Good Today
Bob’s ability to shake off bad experiences was summed up by an experience we had one evening in central London. We had been heading home after a busy day doing interviews and promoting the movie, A Street Cat Named Bob.
I was about to hail a cab, when someone started shouting at me. It was a fairly well-to-do lady, probably in her sixties. She was in an animated state, waving a stick at me.
‘That’s cruelty to animals,’ she shouted. ‘You shouldn’t have him on a lead. I’m going to report you to the RSPCA.’
I stopped and tried to talk to her. But she wasn’t having any of it.
Bob had sensed that she wasn’t a kind soul and had positioned himself defensively on my shoulder. I knew from experience that if this lady made a move, Bob would lash out at her. I really didn’t want that to happen. That wasn’t the kind of publicity we wanted! Fortunately, a black cab appeared with its yellow lights on. I hailed it and jumped in.
On the drive home, it ate away at me. I’d worked so hard all day. I’d spoken to journalists and TV presenters for hours, constantly promoting the positive, hopeful message of our story. The exchange with the lady in the street had lasted for less than a minute, but it had somehow spoiled the previous eight or nine hours.
But then I looked at Bob, lying on the leather seat of the cab, licking himself and gently purring away. He looked completely content. The confrontation with the woman had set him on edge as well. But he had brushed it off. It had been forgotten.
‘You’re right,’ I said to him. ‘What’s the old expression: you shouldn’t let a good today be ruined by a bad yesterday.’
Wisdom Is the Daughter of Experience
Since his earliest days with me, Bob has always seemed at his most focused when he feels under threat. His eyes dart around, his ears prick up and his tail points upwards. It’s as if he is primed for anything – and prepared for the worst.
This is natural, animal instinct, of course, but I’ve often wondered whether it is also to do with his background, the hardships he suffered during his early days on the streets. Was he once attacked by a dog, for instance? Is that why he is wary of some aggressive breeds?
Regardless of the past, the key thing is that he has learned from that experience. Wisdom, in his case, is very much the daughter of experience. The wisest of us are those that, like Bob, draw the biggest lessons from the hardship life throws at us.
Don’t Be Ruled by Fear
Like all of us, Bob has a few dislikes and quirks. A few things that make him bristle or grow restless. He loathes the sound that lorries with hydraulic brakes make, for example. He can also get agitated by aggressive dogs and people. He doesn’t like really loud music too much either, especially now he’s getting older.
In general, however, he allows little to frighten or upset him. He relies on his experience. He simply keeps his eyes and ears – and his highly sensitive whiskers – open. And if he is unsure of something or someone, he reacts immediately. He will fight, freeze or take flight. He will deal with the situation decisively.
We seem to live in a world that is now filled with anxieties. People are crippled by fears, some genuine, but some completely irrational. We could all learn a lesson from Bob. He is careful and keeps his eyes open. But he doesn’t let fear rule his world.
Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover
Spending his days and nights on the streets, Bob saw human nature at its best and worst. Most of those he came across were kind to him, but some were mean. It gave him a very strong instinct about people.
Now if he senses a good, warm-hearted person, he calmly lets them approach and stroke him. But Bob can sniff or spot someone who is out to hurt or harm him from a mile away. And if he feels a threat, he soon lets them know. His hiss is quite something to behold. He has protected me from potential threats on more than one occasion.
What’s important is that his judgment has nothing to do with appearances. How someone looks, the way they dress, or the colour of their skin. It’s about what’s going on inside, whether they are a good person or a bad one.
He never judges a book by its cover.
Guard Against Unguarded Thoughts
I always try to follow Bob’s example. I do my best to judge people not by their appearance, but by the person I sense is inside.
It doesn’t always work.
One morning during the filming of the movie in Covent Garden, I spotted a guy hovering a short distance away from where Bob and I were waiting to be called in front of the cameras.
He was a tall, lean figure in a scruffy denim jacket, jeans and trainers. He seemed on edge. I was wary immediately. There was a lot of expensive equipment around. Who knew what his intentions were? Was he planning on stealing something? Or worse, harming Bob?
I moved towards him.
‘Whatever idea you might have, mate, forget it,’ I said.
He looked confused.
‘No, James. I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m Simon.’
Now it was my turn to be confused.
‘Simon? Simon who? And how do you know my name?’ He smiled.
‘Simon from Centre Point. Five years ago. We shared a room. Don’t you remember?’
I just froze.
‘Oh my God.’
The two of us embraced like the long-lost friends we were.
Years earlier, we’d both been homeless and had taken refuge at the same charity centre. We’d drifted apart. Simon now lived in Glasgow, but had heard of Bob and me and come to see us. He’d been keeping a respectful distance, waiting for filming to end before coming to say hello.
It was a sobering reminder. When I was on the streets, people had always jumped to the wrong conclusions about me. Just because I was busking, it didn’t mean I was a bad person. Now I’d been guilty of the same thing. I’d failed to abide by Bob’s lesson and judged a book by its cover.
There’s another old saying: ‘Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts.’ This encounter taught me to be on guard more often.
Keep Facing the Sun
The abuse I received working on the streets was a constant part of my life. Almost every day someone would shout something behind my back. You never get used to it, but you do learn to live with it.
There were times when I would bite, and engage the person abusing me. It was a pointless exercise, however. There was no benefit in interacting with people, who – in all honesty – didn’t deserve any interaction in the first place. I only upset myself by doing so.
Having Bob with me helped enormously. He almost physically forced me to take a different approach. He would sit on my shoulders, his face pointing forward, looking ahead rather than back. It struck me one sunny, summer’s evening, while we were walking through Covent Garden, heading towards Leicester Square where I was due to meet a friend. Some idiot had just shouted abuse at me, but I ignored it. I pressed on with Bob on my shoulder, heading towards the sun, setting to the west.
‘What’s the old saying, Bob?’ I said quietly to him. ‘Keep your face always towards the sunshine – and the shadows will fall behind you.’
Sometimes Not Getting What You Want Is Good for You
There’s an old Buddhist saying: ‘Sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.’ I hadn’t really understood its full meaning until early on during my time with Bob, when my life took a dramatic turn.
Bob and I had been struggling to make ends meet busking around Covent Garden. I’d regularly run into trouble with the authorities and had a particularly bad relationship with the staff at the Covent Garden tube station, who objected to me and Bob sitting outside. Matters had come to a head when I’d been falsely accused of abusing a ticket inspector. I had been arrested and stuck in a prison cell overnight.
I’d been cleared of the charge eventually, but it had given me a wake-up call. I’d dreamed of using my busking as a launching pad for a musical care
er. But a night in a cold cell had made me realise – in the short term, at least – I simply wasn’t going to be able to achieve that. I had Bob to care for, as well as myself. I had to make a change.
As it turned out, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Instead I started selling The Big Issue , initially in the West End, but then at the Angel in Islington. It was there that my life was transformed. I was spotted by a literary agent and asked to write a book about my life with Bob.
I often think back to that turning point. I had been fortunate in so many ways. First, I’d been able to escape an unjust accusation, but more importantly, I’d been forced to make a change.
Of course, I could never have predicted the precise direction my life was going to take from that point. But there was no doubt that in not getting what I’d wanted, I really had enjoyed the most miraculous good luck.
Wherever You Lay Your Hat
During the making of the movie, Bob and I had to spend a lot of time at Twickenham Film Studios.
It was a very alien environment. The lights, the noise and the unfamiliar faces would have put ninety-nine per cent of cats into a spin, I’m fairly certain. But, despite a little jitteriness at first, Bob adapted quickly.
He would nap when he felt like it. Head off exploring when he wanted.
He worked hard, too. The set designers had created a replica of my flat in north London, where Bob and Luke Treadaway spent their days performing to the cameras. It was long, hard work, but he didn’t mind.
The instant Bob heard the tell-tale sound of the bell and saw the recording light in the studio turn from red to green, signalling that filming was over, he would follow the power lines out of the door and up to his dressing room, where he would expect to be fed. There was never a shortage of volunteers. Half the crew carried packets of Dairylea Dunkers or Dreamies with them, ready to cater to Bob’s every whim.
Towards the end of filming, someone asked me why he’d adapted so well? It was a good question. My presence was, obviously, important. He felt safe in the knowledge his ‘protector’ was there. But it was more than that. Bob also liked routine. The predictability and orderliness of his daily existence on the film set made him feel at ease.
But most importantly, I think, Bob had learned that in life you sometimes have to put your head down wherever there’s a warm bed. Life is about adapting. About making the most of what’s in front of you. And sometimes that means making yourself at home, regardless of where you may lay your hat.
Expect Nothing
One evening, while Bob and I were busking around Covent Garden, we were approached by a very glamorous and attractive young woman. To judge from the way she was dressed – in a glittery black outfit with dazzling jewellery around her neck that must have been worth a small fortune – I think she must have been on her way to the theatre or the opera in the nearby West End.
She saw Bob and me and stopped for a second.
‘Oh, how sweet. What a beautiful cat,’ she said, smiling, then taking a photograph on her rather expensive-looking phone.
It hadn’t been the most profitable evening, so as I often did, I very politely suggested she pop a pound or two into my guitar case for the photo opportunity.
‘Any contribution appreciated. It’ll go towards a coffee or a treat for Bob here,’ I said.
I might as well have asked her if I could pawn the necklace around her neck. Her face was transformed. The smile disappeared to be replaced by a scowl.
‘How very impertinent of you,’ she said, marching off in a huff.
Such encounters weren’t unique. They simply confirmed something that I’d come to understand even before Bob and I had got together. A truth that unfortunately applies, not only on the streets of London, but everywhere.
Often in life it is best to expect nothing, because that way you will never be disappointed.
Stand Your Ground
The streets of London aren’t paved with gold. Quite the opposite. They can be intimidating and unsettling. And Bob had his fair share of scares.
During our days busking and selling The Big Issue , he was always particularly aware of dogs. Not necessarily because he was scared of them, but because he knew he had to handle them carefully.
His instincts were so strong that he could tell if a dog was an empty threat. All bark and no bite. A bully, in effect.
It happened very rarely, but in those instances, he would confront them. He would hiss or snarl or even slash his paws at them. It always worked. The dogs themselves either froze, or they fled. I saw Bob reduce several seemingly scary dogs to gibbering jelly.
And whenever he did so, I was reminded that the best way to deal with a bully is to call their bluff.
Judge Others by Actions Not Words
They say that the best way to judge a person’s character is by their deeds rather than their words.
With cats, you have no option. You can only judge them on their deeds.
Bob has his mischievous moments, of course. And he can be difficult at times. But for more than a decade – through his daily deeds – Bob has displayed exactly the same character. He has been as warm, fun, loyal and caring a companion as anyone could wish to have. No words could convince me that he is otherwise.
Of all the things that Bob has taught me, it is one of the most valuable lessons.
I always try to judge others by the same standards. By their actions and not their words.
Don’t Let Your Boat Take in Water
Bob’s ability to shut out the rest of the world never ceases to amaze me. He seems to have the capacity to cope with almost any situation.
Perhaps the most unbelievable example of this came in November 2016, when he and I attended the royal premiere of the film of A Street Cat Named Bob in London.
It was one of the most surreal evenings of my life, something that, to this day, I can’t quite believe happened to me. Bob and I had to appear on the red carpet, doing interviews and posing for photographs. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of people there, from fans who had travelled to see the event, to television crews and banks of photographers flashing away with their cameras.
It was organised bedlam. At times it was hard to hear above the shouts of the fans, photographers and interviewers who wanted to stick a camera and a microphone in my face. Yet Bob – positioned throughout on my shoulder – sailed through it unfazed.
We spent what must have been half an hour on the red carpet and throughout that time he remained a picture of calm and composure. To be honest, I think he enjoyed it.
That night, everyone asked the same thing: ‘How on earth does he do it?’
I can never know for sure, but I think he insulates himself from what is going on around him. I think he simply approaches life with the view that if it isn’t directly affecting me, then I have nothing to fear from it.
Boats don’t sink because of the water that’s around them. Boats sink because of the water that gets into them.
Bob seems to have the gift of not allowing what happens around him to get inside him. He merely sails serenely on.
PART FIVE
The Zen of Bob – How to Be Good to Ourselves
Cats know instinctively how to look after themselves. They don’t need to go on fad diets, or hire personal trainers or masseurs to keep themselves fit. They don’t need psychologists or life coaches to teach them how to live well.
They just know how to do it – while remaining chilled-out in the process.
That’s certainly the case with Bob. Someone once described him as having an inner peace, a ‘Zen-like calm’ in everything he does. Watching him over the years, I’ve seen that we could all learn a little from his methods, and benefit from what you might call the Zen of Bob.
Bobfulness
Bob can spend an age staring at a tree full of birds. It’s as if he is in a trance. He will sit there, absolutely still, his body coiled, his eyes darting around, picking up every tweet, every flap of a wing. I oft
en wonder what fascinates him so much.
Is it something in his DNA, a hunting instinct? Does he want to get up there and attack them? Is it his fascination with their song? Or is he counting them?
I was watching a programme on TV one day about ‘mindfulness’ and how it helps the brain to focus on one thing for a few minutes. To think about it, look at it in detail. To get lost in that one small thing, to the exclusion of everything else that’s going on around you.
It triggered a thought. That’s what Bob is doing when he watches those birds, I smiled to myself.
He’s practising Bobfulness.
Rich Cat, Poor Cat
In some ways, Bob’s Zen-like calm is a reflection of the simplicity of his life. He has no bills to pay. No mortgage to fret over. No responsibilities.
Bob has no possessions at all. And in that he might be lucky.
It sometimes occurs to me that the more you have, the more you worry about losing it all.
Listen to Your Body
Bob always takes time to stretch. It’s as if he’s doing yoga or pilates or some other form of exercise. He seems to know instinctively which limbs, which muscles to exercise. It’s as if his body has told him what is required.
It never ceases to impress me. And it makes me understand that our bodies are talking to all of us. All the time. Our problem is that most of the time we simply don’t listen.
Make a Meal of Your Food
I sometimes watch Bob eating his food. It is fascinating to see. Sometimes he will start off eating eagerly, gobbling down a few mouthfuls. At other times he will inspect it carefully, sniffing and staring at it, as if checking its quality.