Fiction Um Gato De Rua Chamado Bob Epub


Tuesday, April 30, 2019

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Um Gato De Rua Chamado Bob Epub

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leia isso Um gato de rua chamado Bob James Bowen livre eBook PDF/ePub/ Mobi/Mp3/Txt, O Livro que deu origem ao filme que emocionou milhares de. James Bowen - A Gift from Bob (epub) - dokument [*.epub] James Bowen is the author Um Gato de Rua chamado Bob - James Bowen 4 wyświetleń, stron. Bowen James - A Street Cat Named Bob 0 - dokument [*.pdf] A Street Cat epub . Um Gato de Rua chamado Bob - James Bowen 5 wyświetleń, stron.

Automatyczne logowanie. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. It says we are all given second chances every day of our lives. I spent a big chunk of my life proving that quote. I was given a lot of opportunities, sometimes on a daily basis.

Besides, the last thing I needed right now was the extra responsibility of a cat. I was a failed musician and recovering drug addict living a hand-to-mouth existence in sheltered accommodation. Taking responsibility for myself was hard enough. The following morning, Friday, I headed downstairs to find the ginger tom still sitting there. Once again I dropped down on one knee and stroked him. Once again it was obvious that he loved it.

He was purring away, appreciating the attention he was getting. But I could tell he thought I was OK. In the daylight I could see that he was a gorgeous creature. He had a really striking face with amazingly piercing green eyes, although, looking closer, I could tell that he must have been in a fight or an accident because there were scratches on his face and legs.

It was very thin and wiry in places with at least half a dozen bald patches where you could see the skin. I was now feeling genuinely concerned about him, but again I told myself that I had more than enough to worry about getting myself straightened out. So, more than a little reluctantly, I headed off to catch the bus from Tottenham to central London and Covent Garden where I was going to once more try and earn a few quid busking.

Part of me was disappointed. But mostly I felt relieved. My heart sank a bit when I went down again the next day and saw him back in the same position again. By now he was slightly more vulnerable and dishevelled than before. He looked cold and hungry and he was shaking a little. So I knocked on the door of the flat. I felt I had to say something. If this was their pet, it was no way to treat him. He needed something to eat and drink — and maybe even some medical attention.

A guy appeared at the door. Is this your cat? For a second he looked at me as if I was slightly mad. Must have smelled cooking or something. Well, as I say, nothing to do with me. I made my mind up immediately. I rattled it at him and he was immediately up on all fours, following me.

I could see he was a bit uneasy on his feet and was carrying one of his back legs in an awkward manner, so we took our time climbing the five flights of stairs. A few minutes later we were safely ensconced in my flat. Apart from the telly, all I had in there was a second-hand sofa bed, a mattress in the corner of the small bedroom, and in the kitchen area a half-working refrigerator, a microwave, a kettle and a toaster.

There was no cooker. The only other things in the flat were my books, videos and knick-knacks. At that time I had a broken parking meter in one corner, and a broken mannequin with a cowboy hat on its head in another.

I fished out some milk from the fridge, poured it into a saucer and mixed it with a bit of water. I know that - contrary to popular opinion - milk can be bad for cats because, in fact, they are actually lactose intolerant. He lapped it up in seconds. I had a bit of tuna in the fridge so I mixed it up with some mashed up biscuits and gave that to him as well. Again, he wolfed it down. Poor thing, he must be absolutely starving, I thought to myself.

After the cold and dark of the corridor, the flat was five-star luxury as far as the tom was concerned. He seemed very pleased to be there and after being fed in the kitchen he headed for the living room where he curled up on the floor, near the radiator. As I sat and watched him more carefully, there was no doubt in my mind that there was something wrong with his leg. Sure enough, when I sat on the floor next to him and started examining him I found that he had a big abscess on the back of his rear right leg.

He also had a lot of scratches, one on his face not far from his eye, and others on his coat and legs. I sterilised the wound as best as I could by putting him in the bathtub then putting some non- alcoholic moisturiser around the wound and some Vaseline on the wound itself. Circular - Incorporao De Nova Empresa. Circular Oferecendo Servios. Tributao do trabalho assalariado.

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He found Bob the cat in and the pair have been inseparable ever since. They both live in north London. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The huge, mirrored ballroom was buzzing; there must have been more than two hundred people milling around, chatting and laughing. A small army of smartly dressed waiters and waitresses were circulating with trays of champagne, wine and tasty-looking canapes.

Everyone was in a festive mood. The lunchtime gathering had been organised by one of the biggest publishers in London and was dotted with well-known authors. Every now and again I'd see a face that looked familiar, then realise I'd seen them on television or in a newspaper.

To judge by the way they greeted each other with flamboyant hugs and kisses, a lot of the partygoers were old friends. I, on the other hand, barely knew a soul.

A part of me felt a little bit like a gatecrasher, as if I was there on false pretences somehow. Except that I wasn't. To begin with, the smart, gold-embossed card inviting me and my 'plus one' was still tucked inside my leather jacket, where I intended to keep it as a memento. Also, a few minutes earlier, as everyone had gathered in the room, the hostess of the party, the head of the company, had publicly thanked a few of the authors who had braved the cold weather to be there.

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One of the names she'd singled out had been mine. Well, mine along with that of my 'plus one' for the day, to be precise. Every head in the room had seemed to turn in my direction.

If they'd all been staring at me I'd have been overwhelmed with self-consciousness, but fortunately they hadn't. As so often happened these days, all eyes had actually focussed on a point somewhere above my shoulders and the handsome, ginger cat who was perched there, staring out imperiously, like the captain of a galleon, surveying all before him. He was the star attraction. As usual. It was no exaggeration to say that Bob had saved my life.

When I'd met him six years earlier he'd been a stray, lying injured in the hallway of my block of flats in north London. His arrival had marked a huge turning point in my troubled life. At the time I'd been a recovering heroin addict, struggling to complete a methadone programme. I was twenty-eight years old and had spent the best part of a decade sleeping rough and in homeless shelters or sheltered accommodation.

I was lost. Caring for Bob had given me the impetus and incentive I needed to turn my life around. I'd done that, firstly by busking and selling the homeless magazine The Big Issue, but also by weaning myself off drugs.

Bob was by far the most intelligent and resourceful cat I'd ever encountered. Our time together on the streets of London had been eventful but also hugely cathartic. Each day it seemed like he gave me direction, purpose, companionship and, well, a reason to smile. His impact had been so great that I'd been approached to write a book about our adventures together. When it had been published in March , I'd not expected it to sell more than a hundred copies if I was lucky.

Instead, to my utter amazement, it had become a bestseller, not just in the UK but around the world. Since then I'd written a second book about my life on the streets with Bob, as well as a children's picture book imagining Bob's life before we met. Between them they had sold more than one million copies in the UK alone. It had been this success that had earned Bob and myself an invitation to this particular gathering. With the speeches over, the party really got into top gear.

The waiters were great with Bob and provided me with a couple of bowls so that I could lay out some food and some special cat milk that I'd brought along with me.

Bob was always a people magnet and today was no exception. Partygoers kept coming up to us wanting to take a picture of Bob and say hello. They would congratulate me on my success and ask about my future plans. For the first time in my life I actually had some and I shared them happily. I was particularly proud of the work I was now doing for homeless and animal charities.

I felt like I was giving back to people who had given me a lifeline when I'd really needed it. When people asked me how I planned to spend Christmas, I told them how Bob and I, along with my best friend Belle, were going to treat ourselves to a nice West End show and a couple of meals at smart restaurants. I just smiled and nodded.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never quite get used to this kind of attention, even though it was becoming commonplace. A few days before this, for instance, I had spent a day at a London hotel making a film for Japanese television. Back in Japan, I later learned, actors were reconstructing my life with Bob for a dramatisation of our story that was part of this television programme. I couldn't quite get my head around that. In many ways my life resembled a dream. I was doing things that I wouldn't have imagined possible, almost on a day-to-day basis.

I lived in a constant state of wanting someone to pinch me. As it turned out, the biggest 'pinch me' moment of the Christmas party came right at the end. We had been there for a couple of hours when the party began to break up. Bob was looking tired in any case, so I was ready to leave. I had knelt down to attach the lead that Bob wore when we were out on the streets together when I became aware of someone standing behind me. Do you think he'd mind if I gave him a quick hello?

RETHA from Wisconsin
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