C1P7 橘猫Bob P7

Page 7   ‘OK, mate, you are coming with me,’ I said, digging into my rucksack for the box of biscuits I carried specifically to give treats to the cats and dogs that regularly approached me when I was busking.   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.   My flat was threadbare, it’s fair to say. 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.   I’m a bit of a magpie; I collect all sorts of stuff form the street. At that time, I had a broken parking meter in one corner, and broken mannequin with a cowboy hat on its head in another. A friend once called my place ‘the old curiosity shop’, but as he sussed out his new environment the only thing the tom was curious about was the kitchen.   I fished out some mild form 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