I nipped down to London recently, with a view to having a few animal-related encounters during my stay. It’s never a successful trip unless there is an animal in it somewhere – preferably a live one – but in this instance, I knew that the animal I was going to meet wasn’t alive at all: it was the Street Cat Named Bob memorial statue in Islington.
You may recall that in a past column I interviewed Bob’s owner, James Bowen, about the memorial, which was still in the works when we talked. The talented animal sculptress Tanya Russell had been chosen to sculpt Bob’s likeness, complete with his ubiquitous scarf, and the pink granite for the bench was the last of its kind, sourced from, if memory serves, a quarry in Scotland. The memorial was quite some time in the making, as well as obtaining the necessary permits, planning the transport, and arranging the installment. I had seen pictures of it, once it had been installed, but I was keen to get up close and personal, which I was able to do on a lovely sunny day in January.
It may not seem like much if you’re not a fan of Bob’s – or cats in general – but put it in some perspective: a homeless cat glommed on to a drug addict, helped him get clean, enjoyed almost daily adventures around London as James busked, or sold The Big Issue. Someone who saw them thought they might make a good story, and the snowball started rolling from there. Next thing you know, they’re both famous, and when the movie premiers, the now-Princess of Wales attends, and pets your cat in the bargain. How many people do you know who have lived a similar story?
Unfortunately, Bob met an untimely demise, a thing I can tell you from personal experience is one of the most gut-wrenching agonies there is. Your internal clock slows dramatically whilst the rest of the world’s continues at its normal speed. You look around you and wonder how are these people getting on with their lives as if nothing’s happened? The grief is overwhelming, and it seems endless.
But when you’re a celebrity, the world grieves with you. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad one. You certainly get a lot of sympathy, but of course, that doesn’t make up for losing your dearest friend. Nothing will. But I suspect that conceiving the idea for a memorial, doing the planning, dealing with local government, and all the other little details that James had to attend to, helped take some of the edge off the grief. And what a lovely memorial he created!
I sat on the pink granite bench, one hand resting on Statue Bob’s head, whilst the hubs took pictures, and I thought about all the beloved feline friends I’ve lost, down the years. Mine weren’t sufficiently famous to warrant a memorial. But Bob’s fans come from all over the world to visit the feline mecca in Islington Green. They often leave scarves, or flowers, and they all have their picture taken with Tanya Russell’s creation, just as I did.
What a testament to the power Bob possessed to move complete strangers, to compel them to want to travel from other cities – indeed, other countries! His memorial is a perfect reminder that love can move mountains, and that one ginger tabby moved the world! James Bowen – you should be proud of how you and Bob reached the masses who might’ve otherwise looked away from the man on the pavement selling The Big Issue. And you should be proud of the legacy you’ve left in Islington for all the readers who’ve enjoyed your books, and all the ones who will enjoy them in the future. You have ensured that Bob will never be forgotten! Well done, you!
