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

Even if a cat becomes a member of my family through the cruelty of others, I’m thankful I’ve been given the opportunity to help that cat experience some love and comfort in his or her remaining days. There are many good people in this world, but the actions of the few cruel ones can have such a terrible effect. I don’t like to dwell on that side of things, but there was one story that affected me and made me grateful for the cats I could truly help.

One day there was wailing at our back door, which I opened to find a bag of bones masquerading as a cat. ‘Listen to this one,’ I called to Chris. ‘We’ll have to call it Bob Marley, there’s such a wailing coming from it!’

I didn’t want to let the cat in straight away, as I didn’t know how the others would take to her. We had an old barbecue that she sheltered in after a while, then she eventually made her way into the house. Bob Marley was clearly a very ill cat; there was something wrong with her that I couldn’t put my finger on. Once she was as good as living with us, I took her to the vet. He told me she had kidney trouble but he also said that, as she was really someone else’s cat, maybe they knew about this and she was getting treatment already.

I got a big blackboard and wrote a message on it to say that we had the cat; I described her, and asked if her owner recognized her, could they please get in touch? I put it at the entrance to the cul-de-sac where we lived. I felt it was the right thing to do, as someone could very well be distraught without this sick animal. I was willing to let her go if her owner contacted us.

A few days later, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find a young boy, who, with no introductions, said: ‘The cat’s ours and my mum wants it now, so give it back.’ I asked him if he knew that she was sick and needed medicine, but he just shrugged and repeated the message that I was to give her back – now It was pouring with rain, but I put Bob Marley into one of my baskets and followed the boy back to his house. He shoved his front door open and left me standing outside, dripping wet, with the cat basket in my hand. His mother came to see me, and snatched the basket out of my arms. ‘Actually, that’s my basket,’ I said, although she clearly knew this. She stared at me, opened it, shook Bob Marley out and roughly handed the basket back to me. I repeated what I had said to her son about the poor cat being ill and gave her the medication we had bought. She didn’t say a word.

On the walk home, the rain mingled with my tears and I felt that I’d done the wrong thing. Bob Marley wasn’t our cat but what sort of life would she have with people who seemed to care little for her? I’d willingly take on the cost and trouble of looking after her. After a couple of hours, I’d cried myself out and managed to feel a little better.

Since this family had asked for Bob Marley back, they must have some feelings for her, I reasoned. I decided to go back and gently remind them about the kidney problems. When I got there, I could hear Bob Marley before I saw her. She was making her strange wailing sound and she had been kicked outside in the torrential rain. The little thing was soaked through. I huddled down to stroke her and I knew the woman was watching me from her window Bob Marley wasn’t my cat and there was nothing I could do about it. I said ‘goodbye’ and walked home, crying once more. I never saw Bob Marley again.

There is often heartache where cats are involved. You won’t be surprised to hear that Clyde, who was so caring when Gemma was ill, had a sister called Bonnie. Bonnie’s main hobby was to squeeze herself into the smallest space imaginable, in any sort of container, no matter how unlikely it seemed that she would get into it or how uncomfortable she appeared once she’d achieved her goal. As soon as she saw any basket or box, she would dash over and turn herself round and round and round, edging further and further in, until she’d managed to wedge herself into whatever confined space she’d found. She seemed to be able to get into things that were a quarter of her size, and she was very determined. She’d sit with her bottom stuck high up in the air with no space whatsoever.