The Time I Traveled to London to Meet a Cat

I became smitten with a cat named Bob after reading A Street Cat Named Bob and its sequel, The World According to Bob, about a recovering drug addict in London, James Bowen, who befriends a street cat (Bob) and how it changed his life: Bowen kicked the drugs, became serious about bettering his life and gained a sense of responsibility all because he had something to take care of, something to live for, something to love.

​Bob, in turn, took care of Bowen providing much needed companionship and attracting tourists (and worldwide attention) when he would accompany Bowen as he busked or, later, sold newspapers on the streets of London. It was a storied love affair that illuminated the bumper sticker question, “who saved whom?” when it comes to the bond between humans and animals. The story struck a chord in me, perhaps because I read it soon after my mom’s passing and around the time that my own cat, Angel, became ill. All I knew is that I wanted to go to London to meet this dynamic duo. So I did, at a black-tie, $200+-a-ticket, charity dinner at London’s historic House of Lords.
 
I guess when you travel 5,000 miles to see a cat good fortune is going to smile a little. My boyfriend, Derek, and I found ourselves dining at the same table as Bowen and his fiancée, Monika; Bowen’s friend Lucy and her husband, Sean; the executive director of the Barons Court Project, the organization that benefited from the evening’s proceeds; and Emma, who I credit as the reason I was seated at the VIP table in the first place and who, the next day, took me around London to see the sites where Bowen and Bob hung out, including Covent Garden and Waterstones in London – Islington, the bookstore where Bowen, with Bob always in tow, spent much time penning his books with the help of author Garry Jenkins.
 
A painfully shy child, I am blessed as an adult to be quite the opposite, so when seated next to Sean, also an extrovert, we immediately hit it off. When Sean asked me at intermission between dinner and the program “if I had a minute,” I thought nothing of going with him, not knowing where we would be going. Where we would be going was the greenroom of sorts where Bob, decked out in a bow tie, was sitting serenely on a pillow in the center of the room, with three or four staff nearby watching over him, though he needed little watching. I approached him timidly. Would I scare him? Was I allowed to pet him? I kneeled down, at first just sitting by him, talking to him. Cautiously I put out my hand to pet his head. All the while Bob sat there unfazed, a tiny ginger Buddha in a bow tie. For anyone who views cats as aloof, unsocial creatures who run away the moment a stranger walks into a room, this is not Bob. He was clearly comfortable with people. I knew the moment was special and reminded myself to stop and take it in: The opportunity to have even five minutes with Bob was something most of his millions of fans throughout the world would never have, yet here I was having it.
 
I returned to the dining room in a daze. A few minutes later when Bob was brought out, the crowd—mainly women—rushed to the stage to fawn over him and snap photos. I stood back. I knew I had something they did not. The evening ensued; the trip continued; I had already gotten what I had come for—and more.

Originally published in the anthology Soul of the Narrator in 2021