由于父母離异，与家里关系疏远，加上在学校受到了欺凌，年少叛逆的詹姆斯·鲍恩离开了与母亲共住的澳大利亚，回到伦敦寄住在他同父异母的姐姐家，但不久后就被赶了出来，骄傲倔强的他不愿向家人求助，落得露宿街头，还沾上了毒瘾，靠着在街头弹唱的微薄收入过着朝不保夕的生活，人生变得一塌糊涂。然后有一天，他遇上了人生的救赎——流浪猫鲍勃。有了鲍勃后，詹姆斯开始一步一步地回到正常的人生轨道。他不再依靠卖唱为生，开始自力更生，当上了《大志》（The Big Issue）的销售员，还下决心彻底戒掉毒瘾，与家人修复关系。
　　 鲍勃是一只很有灵性，人见人爱的猫，它会跟着詹姆斯出去街头卖唱和兜售杂志。有人拍下关于它的短片传到了Youtube上，获得超高点击率，鲍勃意外地成为了很有名气的猫。后来，一家出版社得知詹姆斯和鲍勃的故事，表示愿意出版一本关于他们的书，这本书就是《遇见流浪猫鲍勃》（A Street Cat Named Bob）。这本书一经面世就俘虏了万千读者的心，高居畅销书榜首。现在，詹姆斯和鲍勃的故事依然在继续着……
　　 It was a cold and wet autumn that year. On one particular morning， as Bob and I left the block of flats and set off for the bus stop， the sun was once more nowhere to be seen and a light， fine drizzle was falling.
　　 Bob wasn’t a big fan of the rain， so at first I assumed it was to blame for the lethargic way in which he began padding his way along the path. He seemed to be taking each step at a time， almost walking in slow motion. As I cast an eye up to the sky， a giant bank of steely， grey clouds were hovering over north London like some vast， alien spaceship. Maybe Bob was right and we should turn around， I thought for a second. But then I remembered the weekend was coming and we didn’t have enough money to get through it. Beggars can’t be choosers—even if they have been cleared of all charges， I said to myself， trying to make light of the predicament.
　　“Come on， mate， climb aboard，” I said， turning around and ushering him up into his normal position.
　　 He draped himself on my shoulder and we trudged off towards Tottenham High Road and the bus. But as we settled into our bus journey I realised there was more to his low spirits than just the weather.
　　 The ride was normally one of his favourite parts of the day. Bob was a curious cat. No matter how often we did it， he would never tire of pressing himself against the glass. But today he wasn’t even bothered about taking the window seat. Instead he curled up on my lap. He seemed tired. Looking at his eyes he seemed a bit drowsy， as if he was half asleep. He was definitely not his normal， alert self.
　　 As we walked down Neal Street I was suddenly aware that Bob was behaving oddly on my shoulder. Rather than sitting there impassively as normal， he was twitching and rocking around.
　　 “You all right there， mate？” I said， slowing down.
　　 All of a sudden he began moving in a really agitated way， making weird retching noises as if he was choking or trying to clear his throat. I was convinced he was going to jump or fall off so I placed him down on the street to see what was wrong. But before I could even kneel down he began to vomit. It was nothing solid， just bile. But it just kept coming. 　　 I knew that all the retching and the fact that he no longer had any liquid to bring up meant that he was getting dehydrated. I decided that some food and， more importantly， some water， would be a good idea. So I scraped him up and held him in my arms as we walked to a general store I knew nearby. I didn’t have much cash on me at all， but I cobbled together enough to buy a liquidised chicken meal that Bob usually loved and some good， mineral water.
　　 I carried him to Covent Garden and placed it down on the pavement near our normal pitch. I got out Bob’s bowl and spooned the chicken into it.
　　 Ordinarily he would have pounced immediately and guzzled down a bowl of food at a rate of knots， but not today. He only ate the jelly. He didn’t touch a bit of the meat. Again， it set the alarm bells ringing. This wasn’t the Bob I knew and loved. Something was definitely wrong.
　　 I half-heartedly set myself up to start selling the magazine. We needed some money to get us through the next few days， especially if I was going to have to take Bob to a vet and pay for some drugs. But my heart really wasn’t in it. I cut the day short after less than two hours.
　　 When we got home Bob just headed straight for the radiator where he just curled up and went straight to sleep. He stayed there for hours. That night I didn’t sleep much， worrying about him. I’d creep up in the gloom and listen for the sound of his breathing. I couldn’t believe how relieved I was when I found he was purring gently.
　　 The next day I decided to stay home until late in the afternoon to give Bob a good chance to rest. He slept like a log， curled up in his favourite spot. He seemed OK， so I decided to leave him for three or four hours and try and squeeze in some selling. I didn’t have much option.
　　 When I got to Covent Garden all everyone could ask was“Where’s Bob？” When I told people that he was ill they were all really concerned.
　　 It was then that an idea struck me. I had come across a vet nurse called Rosemary. Her boyfriend， Steve， worked at a comic-book shop near where we sometimes set up. Bob and I would pop in there every now and again and we had become friends.
　　 I decided to stick my head in there to see if either of them was around. Luckily Steve was there and gave me a phone number for Rosemary.
　　 When I spoke to Rosemary she asked me a load of questions.
　　 “What does he eat？ Does he ever eat anything else when he’s out and about？” 　　 “Well， he rummages around in the bins，” I said.
　　 I could hear it in her voice; it was as if a light bulb had been switched on.
　　 “Hmmm，” she said. “That might explain it.”
　　 She prescribed some probiotic medication， some antibiotics and some special liquid to settle the stomach.
　　“What’s your address？” she said. “I’ll get it biked over to you.”
　　 I was taken aback.
　　“Oh， I’m not sure that I can afford that， Rosemary，” I said.
　　“No， don’t worry， it won’t cost you anything.” she said. “This evening OK？”
　　 “Yes， great，” I said.
　　 I was overwhelmed. Such spontaneous acts of generosity hadn’t exactly been a part of my life in the past few years. Random acts of violence， yes; kindness， no. It was one of the biggest changes that Bob had brought with him. Thanks to him I’d rediscovered the good side of human nature.
　　Rosemary was as good as her word. I had no doubt she would be. The bike arrived early that evening and I administered the first doses of the medicine straight away.
　　The medicine had an almost immediate impact. That night he slept soundly and was a lot friskier the following morning.
　　Seeing Bob sick had a profound effect on me. He had seemed to be such an indestructible cat. I’d never imagined him getting ill. Discovering that he was mortal really shook me.
　　It underlined the feeling that had been building inside me for a while now. It was time for me to get myself clean.
　　I was fed up with my lifestyle. I was tired of the mind-numbing routine of having to go to the DDU unit every fornight and the chemist every day. I was tired of feeling like I could slip back into addiction at any time.
　　 So the next time I went to see my counsellor I asked him about coming off methadone and taking the final step towards becoming completely clean. We’d talked about it before， but I don’t think he’d ever really taken me at my word. Today， he could tell I was serious.
　　 “Won’t be easy， James，” he said.
　　 “Yeah， I know that.”
　　 “You’ll need to take a drug called Subutex. We can then slowly decrease the dosage of that so that you don’t need to take anything，” he said.
　　 “OK，” I said
　　 “The transition can be hard， you can have quite severe withdrawal symptoms，” he said， leaning forward.
　　 “That’s my problem，” I said. “But I want to do it. I want to do it for myself and for Bob.”
　　“OK， well， I will get things moving and we will look at beginning the process in a few weeks’ time.” 　　 For the first time in years， I felt like I could see the tiniest light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
　　 那年秋天，天氣寒冷潮湿。一天早上，当我和鲍勃离开公寓，前往巴士站时，太阳仍然不见踪影，天空下起了蒙蒙细雨。
　　 鲍勃不太喜欢下雨，所以我刚开始以为它走起路来昏昏沉沉的样子是因为天气所致。它似乎是一步一个脚印，近乎以慢动作行走着。我抬头望向天空，一大片乌黑冰冷的乌云正盘旋在伦敦北部的上空，仿佛一艘巨大的外星飞船。也许鲍勃是对的，我们应该转身回去，这样的念头在我脑海中一闪而过。但我随即想起周末快到了，而我们还没凑够这两天的生活费。乞丐没有选择的权利——即使他们没有犯下任何罪行，我对自己这样说，试图淡化眼前的窘境。
　　 “来吧，伙计，爬上来，”我边说边转身招呼它爬上平时的位置。
　　 它懒洋洋地坐到我的肩膀上，然后我们便步履维艰地前往托特纳姆大街乘坐巴士。但当我们坐上巴士后，我意识到它之所以无精打彩不仅仅是因为天气不好这么简单。
　　 通常，乘坐巴士是它一天里最喜欢的活动之一。鲍勃是一只好奇心很强的猫。无论我们坐了多少次巴士，它每次都会挤向玻璃往外看，从不会对此感到厌倦。但今天它甚至都懒得坐到靠窗的位置去，反而蜷缩在我的大腿上。它似乎很累，眼神迷蒙，就像快要睡着一样。这绝对不是平常那个活泼机灵的它。
　　 当我们走到尼尔街时，我突然察觉到趴在我肩上的鲍勃表现异常。它没有像往常一样乖乖地坐着，而是在抽搐，扭来扭去的。
　　 “你还好吗，伙计？”我说道，并放慢脚步。
　　 突然，它开始焦躁地扭动起来，发出奇怪的干呕声，就像被噎着了或是在清嗓子。我确信它快要跳下去或者掉下去，所以我把它放到了地面上，看看到底是怎么回事。但我都还没弯下膝盖它就开始呕吐起来。吐出来的全是胆汁，没有固体的东西。但它就是不停地吐着。
　　 我知道一直呕吐就意味着它会面临脱水，何况它现在连水都吐不出来。我觉得要给它吃点食物，更重要的是要多喝点水。所以我把它抱在怀里，走到附近的一家杂货店。我身上没有多少钱，但拼拼凑凑还是够给鲍勃买一份它喜欢的鸡肉浓汤和一些优质的矿泉水。
　　 我抱着它来到了考文特花园，把它放在我们平时摆摊地点附近的人行道上。我拿出鲍勃的碗，把鸡肉倒了进去。
　　 平常，它都会立马猛扑过来，然后开始迅速地狼吞虎咽碗里的食物，但今天它没有这样做。它只吃了碗里的浓汤，没有碰一点肉。警钟再次响起。这不是我认识和喜欢的那个鲍勃。肯定有什么不对劲。
　　 我稳住不安的心情，心不在焉地开始兜售杂志。我们需要一些钱来支撑接下来几天的生活，尤其是如果我要带鲍勃去看兽医和支付药费的话。但我真的无心工作。不到两个小时，我就提前结束了今天的工作。
　　 我们回到家后，鲍勃径直走到暖炉旁蜷缩起来，开始睡觉。它在那里呆了很久。我那晚没怎么睡，担心着它。我摸黑起床，悄悄地倾听它呼吸的声音。当我听到它发出轻柔的咕噜声时，我不敢相信自己松了多大一口气。
　　 第二天，我决定在家呆到临近傍晚再出去，让鲍勃能好好休息一番。它睡得很熟，蜷缩在它最喜欢的地方。它看起来还不错，所以我决定留它自己在家呆三、四个小时，努力挤出时间卖点杂志。我别无选择。
　　 当我到达考文特花园后，大家都问我：“鲍勃去哪儿了？”我告诉他们它生病了，他们都很担心。
　　 就在这时，我想到了一个主意。我遇到过一位叫露丝玛丽的动物护士。我和鲍勃有时候会在她男朋友斯蒂夫工作的漫画书店附近摆摊。我和鲍勃时不时会出现在那里，所以我们成为了朋友。
　　 我决定探头进去看看他们在不在。很幸运，史蒂夫在那里，他给了我露丝玛丽的电话号码。
　　 我给露丝玛丽打了电话，她问了我许多问题。
　　 “它都吃些什么？它有在外面吃过其他东西吗？”
　　 “嗯，它会在垃圾箱周围翻找，”我说道。
　　 我听到她的声音透出一种了然于心的感觉，仿佛灯泡点亮了。
　　 “嗯，”她说道。“那就是原因所在了。”
　　 她给我开了一些益生素、抗生素和专门平胃的药水。
　　 “你的地址是？”她说道。“我骑车给你送过去。”
　　 我感到很惊讶。
　　“噢，我不知道够不够钱付药费，露丝玛丽，”我说道。
　　 “不，别担心，这不要钱的。”她说道。“今晚可以吗？”
　　 “可以，太好了，”我说道。
　　 我受到了震撼。在过去几年的生活中，我从未受到过别人这种发自内心的慷慨相助。任意的暴力行为，有;善意，没有。这是鲍勃给我带来的最大改变之一。多亏它，我重新发现了人性美好的一面。
　　 露丝玛丽信守诺言。我对此没有一丝怀疑。她那天晚上很早就骑车过来了。我马上就给鲍勃服下第一剂药。
　　 药物的效果立竿见影。那天晚上它睡得很安稳，第二天早上精神了很多。
　　 鲍勃生病对我造成了很大的影响。之前，它似乎是一只坚不可摧的猫。我从未想过它会生病。发现原来它也是会生病的，这让我受到了很大的冲击。
　　 这加深了我之前抱有的一个想法。是时候彻底戒除毒瘾了。
　　 我受够了自己的生活方式。我受够了每隔两个星期就要去一次戒毒所，每天都要去药店。我受够了那种随时可能再沾上毒瘾的感觉。
　　 因此，当我再次见到我的咨询师时，我问了他关于停用美沙酮，踏出彻底戒毒的最后一步的相关事宜。我们之前就讨论过了，但我觉得他没有把我的话放在心上。但今天，他可以看出来我是认真的。
　　 “这不容易，詹姆斯，”他说道。
　　 “是的，我知道。“
　　“你需要服用一种叫丁丙诺啡的药物。然后我们可以慢慢地减少剂量直到你不再需要服用任何药物，”他说。
　　 “好的，”我说。
　　 “这个过程会很困难，你可能会出现一些很严重的脱瘾症状，”他倾身向前说道。
　　 “这是我的问题，”我说。“但我想这样做，为了我自己和鲍勃。”
　　 “好的，我会着手准备，考虑在几周后开始进行。”
　　 这么多年来，我第一次感到在黑暗的隧道尽头看到一丝微光。