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

Only a few years ago, details were revealed under the Freedom of Information Act about the cats that the Home Office had been keeping at its London headquarters since 1883. Originally, cats were introduced to deal with the natural problem of mice in an old building, but, in 1929, the status of the cat was formally recognized when one penny a day was paid from the official accounts for food. All the Home Office cats were black and all were called Peter. When the Home Office began to set up satellite establishments across the country, each put in an official request for their own ‘Peter’.

In the late 1950s, whichever Peter was in residence in the London Home Office was catapulted to fame when he appeared in a documentary. When well-wishers offered gifts of tasty titbits and snacks in celebration of his work, they were told that this was against the rules that prevent civil servants from accepting gifts. After the death of that Peter, the Isle of Man offered one of their famous Manx cats to replace him. The fact that she was a girl could have jeopardized the line of ‘Peters’, which had become a tradition by then, but the civil servants got round it by calling her ‘Peta.’

Nor was Downing Street, the heart of British government, immune to the attractions of a pet. Wilberforce resided with three Prime Ministers – Edward Heath, Harold Wilson and Margaret Thatcher – thanks to his reputation as a great mouser. By the time he retired in 1987, he’d managed to affect the Iron Lady to the extent that she was reputed to have brought him back a tin of sardines from a state visit to Moscow.

It wasn’t long after the death of Wilberforce, soon after his retirement, that a new cat came into office at Number 10. Humphrey, named after a character in Yes Minister, wandered into the seat of power one day and simply took up residence. Apparently, he too appealed to the Prime Minister, for his cost of £100 a year was much less than the £4,000 for a pest control officer who’d allegedly never caught a mouse. Humphrey saw the departure of Mrs Thatcher and the arrival of John Major, and even lasted until Tony Blair brought a Labour government to power in 1997. He was given free rein to wander between Numbers 10 and 11 Downing Street and was famous enough to have his own book published. He met Bill Clinton, President of the USA at the time, and perhaps discussed whether Socks, the White House cat, had any special privileges he did not.

Humphrey found himself at the heart of a scandal when it was alleged that he was responsible for the death of a family of baby robins. The Prime Minister quickly jumped to his defence, claiming ‘Humphrey is not a serial killer’. It was later suggested that Mr Major knew this categorically, as it was he, not Humphrey, who had disturbed the robins’ nest, thus scaring away the parents.

Humphrey survived the slur on his character, but did not manage to last through the residency of Mr Blair. After only six months, Humphrey disappeared and some journalists suspected foul play. On enquiring what had happened to the Chief Mouser, they were told he had retired due to kidney problems. In the hope of more interesting headlines, questions were asked about whether he had been put to sleep, as it was alleged the Prime Minister’s wife was allergic to cats. In a scene worthy of Britain’s reputation as eccentric when it comes to animals, a number of select journalists were taken to a secret location to meet Humphrey in his retirement. Many of them knew him of old and could confirm his identity, so a national crisis was averted. To my mind, Humphrey looks rather like Casper and I wonder whether it is just in the nature of fluffy black and white cats to cause trouble?

It was not until Mr Blair was succeeded by Gordon Brown in 2007 that a new cat came to Downing Street. Sybil – again named after a TV character, this time from Fawlty Towers – was believed to have come from the new Chancellor Alastair Darling’s home in Edinburgh. Sadly, Sybil didn’t settle and it was decided that she should return to Scotland. However, before this happened she became very ill and passed on.

I think it is delightful that in the midst of political shenanigans and top-level debates, those in power still have time for furry friends. Perhaps they, too, benefit from the lowered blood pressure and stress levels that come from having animals around – who knows? Whatever the reason, I do hope it continues, and I am proud to think that, in his own small way, Casper played a part in helping people during what may have been very difficult times in their lives.