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

We got Gemma from a couple who’d broken away from the official Cats Protection branch where we lived and set up an independent cat rescue group. I befriended this couple and kept in touch with them even when I wasn’t looking to add new kitties to my life. I always enjoyed visiting Ted and Rosemary, so one beautiful summer afternoon I’d cycled over to see them in their cat centre. Chris was going to meet me there when he’d finished work.

When I arrived, Rosemary called out, ‘Just have a wander round, Sue, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ She always had her hands full, attending to all the residents, but I was quite used to spending some time on my own, happily looking at who was there and what they were all up to.

I was pottering around, checking all the pens and making sure that the cats were fine, when this lovely creature came straight up and looked at me in such a strange way. It was almost as if she were looking into my soul – I felt quite spooked. I wasn’t in the market for another cat, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Chris and I met up later at the centre and we had a chat with Ted and Rosemary before we headed off. I hadn’t realized that, when we visited, he’d also taken to wandering around and looking in all the pens, so when he told me what he’d been up to, I was quite surprised.

When we got home, he kept chatting about all the cats and finally said, ‘Did you see the white one with the grey bits on her by any chance?’ I knew he was talking about the same little girl who’d stared at me, so I said I had and was shocked when he told me that the same thing had happened to him. ‘She stared at me so hard, for so long, that I felt as if I’d known her before,’ Chris told me. ‘Isn’t that funny?’ he said. ‘I felt a connection there – we just sort of gelled.’ It was odd. Chris loved animals by now, but this was the first time I’d heard him talk like that. This little cat had really got to him.

We didn’t say anything else about it that night, but as I was dropping off to sleep, Chris whispered to me. ‘You know, Sue, that little white and grey cat? If you want her, that’s absolutely fine by me.’ That was as good as him asking for her.

The next day I called Rosemary and she was delighted that we were going to be Gemma’s new carers. She brought her round that very afternoon and told me a little of her story. ‘The poor thing has been housed twice already,’ she said. ‘People take a rescue cat and expect it to come into their lives and settle immediately. It doesn’t happen like that – it takes a lot longer than one day.’ She told me that Gemma had been housed with a dog and another cat and she was too scared of both of them to fit in instantly, so she’d been brought back almost immediately. The same thing happened the next time: she was given hardly a moment before that family decided she wasn’t right for them either.

When Rosemary left, I made a vow that it would be third time lucky for little Gemma now that she was with us. There was no way I was going to dump her again. She eventually came out of her shell, and by the time that had happened, Rosemary had told me a little more of her story. She’d been found in a transport yard, covered in diesel. The men in the yard had tried to do their best for her, by making sure she was fed, but she was a nervous, twitchy thing. They contacted Rosemary, as they were worried about her. There was a suspicion that she had jumped a lorry, as she had no collar or chip, but, really, we knew nothing about her.

Gemma was hard work – even harder than Casper. Settling her took six months. I didn’t know much about what had happened in her past but she must have been forced to fend for herself at some point, as she was incredibly defensive with the others, hissing and spitting, especially around food. It was as if she always felt she had to fight for it, and there would never be enough.

As we were her third attempt at re-homing, I felt that we owed it to her to keep trying. The poor thing had been passed from pillar to post, and it would have been unfair to give up on her quickly. However, there was always the worry that the other cats would get overwhelmed and possibly even leave if the attacks went on for too long. Gemma eventually responded to love and care and became the most beautiful cat. With grooming and a little help with her hygiene, it transpired that she was a stunning Maine Coon.

Her main delight was being outside in the warmth – what a sun worshipper that cat was! When I took her to the vet for the first time, I was warned to be very careful and protect her from sun exposure because the white patches she had would make her more susceptible to skin cancer. I got a big floral parasol and propped it up in the garden for her to sit under once we knew her habits. This protected her from the brilliant sunshine, but she sneaked out from under it quite a lot to lie in other patches.