The World According to Bob

spotting trouble. He had stood up and begun backing himself towards me so that he was now standing between my legs, ready to jump up if things got out of hand.
    One or two other people had stopped, curious to see what the fuss was about so I knew I had witnesses if the lady did or said anything outrageous.
    We carried on arguing for a minute or two. I tried to ease her fears by telling her a little about us.
    ‘We’ve been together for more than two years. He wouldn’t have been with me two minutes if I was mistreating him,’ I said at one point. But she was intransigent. Whatever I said, she just shook her head and tutted away. She simply wasn’t willing to listen to my point of view. It was frustrating in the extreme, but there was nothing more I could do. I resigned myself to the fact that she was entitled to her opinion. ‘Why don’t we agree to differ?’ I said at one point.
    ‘Hffff,’ she said, waving her arms at me. ‘I’m not agreeing with anything you say young man.’
    Eventually, to my huge relief, she started walking away, muttering and shaking her head as she shuffled off into the crowds jostling around the entrance to the tube station.
    I watched her for a moment, but was soon distracted by a couple of customers. Fortunately, their attitude was the complete opposite of the one this lady had displayed. Their smiles were a welcome relief.
    I was handing one of them their change when I heard a noise behind me that I recognised immediately. It was a loud, piercing wheeeeeow . I spun round and saw the woman in the tweed suit. Not only had she come back, she was now holding Bob in her arms.
    Somehow, while I had been distracted, she had managed to scoop him up off the rucksack. She was now nursing him awkwardly, with no affection or empathy, one hand under his stomach and another on his back. It was strange, as if she’d never picked up an animal before in her life. She could have been holding a joint of meat that she’d just bought at the butcher or a large vegetable at a market.
    Bob was clearly furious about being manhandled like this and was wriggling like crazy.
    ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ I shouted. ‘Put him down, right now or I’ll call the police.’
    ‘He needs to be taken somewhere safe,’ she said, a slightly crazed expression forming on her reddening face.
    Oh God no, she’s going to run off with him , I said to myself, preparing to drop my supply of magazines and set off in hot pursuit through the streets of Islington.
    Luckily, she hadn’t quite thought it through because Bob’s long lead was still tethered to my rucksack. For a moment there was a kind of stand-off. But then I saw her eye moving along the lead to the rucksack.
    ‘No you don’t,’ I said, stepping forward to intercept her.
    My movement caught her off guard which in turn gave Bob his chance. He let out another screeching wheeeeow and freed himself from the woman’s grip. He didn’t scratch her but he did dig his paws into her arm which forced her to panic and suddenly drop him on to the pavement.
    He landed with a bit of a bump, then stood there for a second growling and hissing and baring his teeth at her. I’d never seen him quite so aggressive towards anyone or anything.
    Unbelievably, she used this as an argument against me.
    ‘Ah, look, see, he’s angry,’ she said, pointing at Bob and addressing the half dozen or more people who were watching events unfold.
    ‘He’s angry because you just picked him up without his permission,’ I said. ‘He only lets me pick him up.’
    She wasn’t giving up that easily. She clearly felt she had some kind of audience and was going to play to them.
    ‘No, he’s angry because of the way you are treating him,’ she said. ‘Everyone can see that. That’s why he should be taken away from you. He doesn’t want to be with you.’
    Again there was a brief impasse while everyone held their breath to see what happened next. It was Bob who broke the silence.
    He gave the woman a really disdainful look, then padded his way back towards me. He began rubbing his head against the outside of my leg, and purring noisily when I put my hand down to stroke him.
    He then plonked his rear down on the ground and looked up at me again playfully, as if to say, ‘now can we get on with some more tricks?’ Recognising the look, I dipped my hand into my coat pocket and produced a treat. Almost immediately, Bob got up on his hind legs and grabbed hold of