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Et gammelt ordtak sier at en klok mann sørger ikke over det han mangler, men er takknemlig for de godene han har.

The world as it was before I met Bob seemed a harsh, heartless and, yes, a hopeless place. The world I had grown to see through his eyes is a very different one. There was a time when I couldn’t distinguish one day from the next. Now I cherish each one.

They say that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. The month at barely begun but the weather was already living up to its reputation.

I’d read about cats having the power to heal bones with their purring. Apparently there’s something about the frequency at which they vibrate that somehow strengthen bones. I wondered whether he was trying to somehow heal my chest.

There was no question about which was Bobs's favourite: an advent calendar filled with his favourite treats. He'd fallen in love with it instantly, naturally, and had quickly learned to make a fuss first thing in the morning when it was time to produce the latest snack on the countdown to Christmas.

I stood there watching him dabbing a paw into the powdery whiteness then standing back to admire the print he’d left in the virgin surface. For a moment I imagined what it must be like to see the world through his eyes.

As I drew back the bedroom curtains and looked out acoss the north London rooftops, it was obvious the Wintry weather the forecasters had been predicting had finished its journey from Siberia or whichever frozen wasteland had sent it in our direction.

But, if I was hones, the thing that hit me the hardest was the realisation that this could so easily have been me. It might be silly now, but I remember thinking that it felt a little bit like Scrooge being visited by the ghost of his not-so-distant past.

I would always have an addictive personality and some mental health issues that I knew made me prone to destructive behaviour. All it needed was one moment of weakness and I could be on the way down again. It scared me.