The World According to Bob

face on her hand, purring away as he did so.
    ‘Do you think he’d mind if I picked him up?’ she said.
    ‘Sure, if he will come to you then go for it,’ I said, sensing that he was already really at ease with her.
    As I suspected, he let her scoop him up.
    ‘Why don’t you come with me and we can see if we can sort you out with something nice to eat or drink?’ she said.
    I watched as they headed behind the main reception desk to an office area with desks and photocopiers and fax machines. Bob was fascinated by all the red lights and buzzing machines and was happy in there. So I left him there as I headed off with the officers.
    ‘Don’t worry, he’s safe with Gillian,’ the younger officer said to me as we went through a set of doors into the custody suite. I felt certain he was telling the truth.
    As we headed into an interview room, I suddenly felt butterflies in my stomach. It had been explained to me that I was being questioned about one of the so-called ‘trigger offences’. These were offences in which drug users or dealers committed crimes like shoplifting, robbery and assault in order to buy drugs. So as a result of this, I knew that I would probably need to be tested for drugs as well as fingerprinted.
    How times had changed? A year or so earlier and I’d have been seriously concerned about this. But now I had no qualms at all as they conducted the so-called Cozart test and swabbed my mouth for traces of heroin or cocaine. I knew I was clean. I told the officers this but they said they had no option.
    ‘It’s regulation now I’m afraid,’ one of them said. Once that was over, they sat me down and asked me some questions.
    They asked me whether I’d been in a location somewhere in Islington a day earlier. The address didn’t sound at all familiar. They then mentioned the name of a woman.
    Years earlier, at the depths of my drug addiction, when I’d been arrested a couple of times for shoplifting I’d learned to simply answer ‘no comment’ to any questions like this. But I knew this was really irritating for the police, so I tried to be co-operative.
    ‘I’d like to help you, but I honestly don’t know what you are talking about,’ I said.
    They didn’t get angry or pushy in their questioning at all. There was no ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine. They just nodded at my answers, took down some notes and that was it. After about ten minutes, or less, we were done.
    ‘OK, Mr Bowen, well we need you to stay here for a bit while we look into this further,’ the younger officer said.
    By now it had turned into a very bright, sunny afternoon outside. I was impatient to be reunited with Bob and to get back to work. But the clock kept ticking and before I knew it the shadows were lengthening. It was really frustrating and I was also worried about Bob. At one stage a duty PC offered me a cup of tea so I asked about him.
    ‘It’s OK, he’s with Gillian still downstairs,’ he said. ‘Think she’s been out to get him some treats, so he’s a pretty happy chappie down there.’
    Eventually, the two officers who’d first approached me, came back into the interview room.
    ‘I’m afraid I think we’ve wasted your time and our time,’ they said. ‘The person who made this accusation on the phone hasn’t been willing to come down to give a formal statement. So there’s no corroborating evidence against you and so there will be no charges.’
    I was obviously relieved. I felt angry as well, but decided to bottle it up. There was no point in making a formal complaint or threatening legal action, especially as everyone had been so decent. It was best to just get the hell out of there and get back to work.
    My main concern, once more was Bob. What had they done with him for all this time?
    I had to go down to the reception area to sign out. Bob was there with Gillian, looking as content as when I’d left him. But the moment he saw me his tail started swishing and his ears perked up. He leapt into my arms.
    ‘Gosh, someone’s pleased to see you,’ Gillian said.
    ‘Has he been a good boy?’ I asked her.
    ‘He’s been a star. Haven’t you, Bob?’ she said.
    I saw that she had set him up in a corner of her office. She told me that she’d been out to the shops and bought him some cat milk, a pouch of meaty food and an enormous packet of his favourite treats. No wonder he was so happy, I thought.
    We chatted for a moment or two while they got my bag and tabard from wherever it had