The World According to Bob

fascinating new world, one that he was soon eager to explore. I had put him on my shoulders as usual, but I’d barely walked a few yards before he was repositioning himself ready to clamber down to earth.
    It hadn’t really occurred to me, but as I put him down I realised that it was the first time Bob had been out and about in snow, with me, at least. I stood there watching him dabbing a paw into the powdery whiteness then standing back to admire the print he’d left in the virgin surface. For a moment I imagined what it must be like to see the world through his eyes. It must have seemed so bizarre to see everything suddenly turned white.
    ‘Come on, mate, we can’t hang around all day,’ I said after a minute or two.
    By now the snow was so heavy, it was hard to see in front of us.
    Bob was still having a great time lifting his feet up in and out of the ever deepening snow. Eventually, however, it got so deep that his belly was lined with white crystals.
    ‘Come on, mate, let’s get you back up here,’ I said, grabbing him and sticking back on my shoulders.
    The problem now was that the snow was falling so steadily and heavily that it was settling on both of us. Every few yards I had to brush an inch of fresh snow off my shoulders then do the same thing to Bob.
    I had a rather knackered old umbrella which I produced from my rucksack. But it was next to useless in the strong winds so I gave up on it within minutes.
    ‘This is no good, Bob. Think we need to find you a coat,’ I said. I dived into a small convenience store, stamping my feet clean of snow in the doorway.
    At first the owner, an Indian lady, looked shocked to see the pair of us standing there, which was hardly surprising really. We must have made a bizarre sight. But her mood soon thawed.
    ‘You are brave walking about in this weather,’ she smiled.
    ‘I don’t know about brave,’ I said. ‘Mad might be closer to the truth.’
    I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for. At first I wondered about buying a new umbrella, but they were too expensive for me. I only had a small amount of change. But then I had an idea and headed for the area where the kitchen supplies were stocked. I saw a roll of small, heavy duty bin liners.
    ‘That might do the trick, Bob,’ I said quietly.
    ‘How much for a single bag?’ I asked.
    ‘I can’t sell them as singles. I have to sell you the whole roll. It’s £2,’ she said.
    I didn’t want to fork out that much. I really was broke. But then I noticed she had little black carrier bags on the counter top for customers to carry their shopping.
    ‘Is there any chance I could take one of those?’ I said.
    ‘OK,’ she said, looking sheepishly at me. ‘They are 5p.’
    ‘OK, I’ll take one. Do you have any scissors?’
    ‘Scissors?’
    ‘Yes, I want to make a hole in it.’
    This time she looked at me as if I truly was off my rocker. But, probably against her better instinct, she dipped down behind the counter and produced a small pair of sewing scissors.
    ‘Perfect,’ I said.
    I grabbed the closed end of the bag and cut a small semi-circle about the size of Bob’s head. I then opened the bag up and slipped Bob’s head through it. The improvised poncho fitted like a glove and covered his body and legs perfectly.
    ‘Oh, I see,’ the lady said, laughing. ‘Very clever. That should do the trick.’
    It took us about fifteen minutes to get to Angel. One or two people shot us funny looks as we walked along, but to be honest most were more concerned with getting from A to B safely in the drifting snow.
    I knew there was no way we were going to be able to survive outside the tube at our normal pitch. The pavement was thick with slushy snow. So Bob and I positioned ourselves in the nearest underpass where the bulk of commuters were taking refuge.
    I really didn’t want to keep Bob out in the cold for too long, so I put some extra effort into selling the magazine. Fortunately, a lot of people seemed to take pity on us and dipped into their pockets. My pile of magazines was soon dwindling.
    By late afternoon, I’d accumulated enough cash to keep us going for a day or two, I reckoned. The main thing was that I had enough to keep the gas and electricity topped up until, hopefully, the weather improved.
    ‘Now, all we’ve got to do is get home,’ I said to Bob as we once more bent ourselves into the icy winds and headed back to the bus stop.
    There have to be easier ways of earning a crust than