Casper The Commuting Cat: The True Story Of The Cat Who Rode The Bus And Stole Our Hearts

My next job was as a ward clerk on a GP ward in town, which I enjoyed so much that I stuck with it for thirteen years. The ward was run by a matron – the traditional type that has long gone out of fashion. She imposed lots of rules and regulations, as well as incredibly high standards about attitude and hygiene. We may have had our gripes about her back then, but she was a wonderful woman.

If those sorts of no-nonsense ladies were in charge of NHS hospitals today, I’d wager the infection rates would go down overnight. The sight of nurses wandering around on the streets in their uniforms and then going back onto wards in the same clothes would have made her scream. There are many changes in healthcare that I believe have not been for the good, and the loss of matrons – dragons though they may have been – is one of them. Many of the things she taught me I still remember and apply.

My working life was going well. The children were at school and Kim no longer screamed every time I went off to work. When the children were older and things were more settled, I met someone. Chris was not only fantastic with the kids, but he also accepted me the way I was. I soon realized that some of the aspects of his character that I complained about were his good points, not his bad ones. When he came round, he would get the children out of their beds, mess about with them and get them into such high spirits that it took me hours to get them settled again. What I eventually realized was that he was giving them such happiness that I would have to pay the price – hyper children at midnight. He was fantastic with all three, and that was one of the things that really warmed me to him.

His kindness was not of the ‘show-off’ variety – it was genuine and heartfelt. One night when I was feeling rather down, he told me to pop round to his flat to tell him all my complaints, which were nothing particularly interesting but seemed vitally important to me at the time. He persuaded me to have a drink or two, and by the time I left, I was much more unsteady on my feet than when I arrived. It was years later that I discovered Chris had followed me home that night to ensure that I got back safely. He stayed a good bit behind me, never drawing attention to himself, and went back to his flat after he’d seen me get myself safely indoors. That sort of kindness is typical of him When I finally realized how good a man he was, I agreed to marry him.

We wed just before I turned forty. My main demand when Chris proposed was: love me, love my cats. He said that he wasn’t a cat person, but, unlike my first husband, he was such a warm and giving person that he was more than happy to try. It took very little time for him to be converted and we’ve opened our home to a whole menagerie of felines since then. He is just as indulgent and emotional about every one of them as I am.

The three children and I moved in with Chris after the wedding, but one family member wasn’t so keen – Snowy. He kept going back to my old house. Chris would patiently trek back for him time after time until we realized that we would have to lock him in until he got the message that this was his new home. Chris became fond of him very quickly, so when I suggested that we get another cat, he was completely supportive.

It was with lightness in my heart that I contacted the cat rescue centre to find the next addition to our family. They did a home visit to ensure that we were suitable for a rescue cat and then suggested I come along the next day to look at the cats they had. I could hardly sleep that night, I was so excited at the thought that I was starting to build the family I’d always wanted.

As soon as I walked in to the rescue centre, I was drawn to a tiny, very slim little girl whom we named Ginny, continuing the theme of cats with drink-related names (Snowy’s full moniker was Snowball). She was a beautiful but shy thing of only ten months. She was so dainty – a black and white cat, with four white paws and a white flash on her chest – and very nervous. Ginny had been separated from her brother after a marriage break-up, but this trauma didn’t upset her for long. In fact, she became a bossy and domineering creature, who turned out to be a real mummy’s girl.

Once she was integrated into her new environment, she made great friends with Snowy, our big fluffy male, who had been living with us for ten years by then (he was back to his original colour after Kim’s colouring attempts years earlier had finally worn off). The relationship that developed between Ginny and Snowy was lovely to watch. They were so different in size and temperament, but Snowy always seemed protective and aware of what she needed.