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

When I had the desire to bring more cats into the family, it didn’t seem a problem. I love to be surrounded by cats, and I would happily take on more and more until they were everywhere. I have enough love to go around, but I will house another cat only if we have the financial capacity to feed and care for him or her. Older cats need a great deal of veterinary care, and those costs must always be taken into consideration by anyone who is expanding their family. Love is one of the main qualifications when acquiring any pet, but money helps too. If I had a bottomless pit of cash, I would have an endless troupe of cats; as it is, I must be practical and realize that these ill and old pets might often cause me to dip into my resources.

As well as giving a home to older cats, I always make sure I get them from rescue centres, usually ones affiliated with Cats Protection. I know charities face problems getting ‘forever homes’ for these feline pensioners, so I tend to keep in touch with them whenever we move into a new area. By the time I feel the need to get a new cat, I’ve usually built up a relationship with the organizer.

‘Come on then, Sue,’ called Chris on the morning we were heading off to get the cats. ‘Let’s go see what we’re getting this time.’ We had no idea who we were going to opt for, as I hadn’t chatted with the lady who housed them, and both Chris and I left with an open mind, telling the cats we left behind that we’d be coming home with some new playmates for them.

Off we drove on the empty Sunday roads to meet Casper, without realizing what was going to happen to our lives. In retrospect, I wonder how I would have felt had I known that I was about to welcome into my world the cat who would change it. As with most momentous changes, I was blissfully unaware, thinking of nothing more than the happiness I always felt in welcoming a new animal into our home.

This particular cat home was linked to Cats Protection but it was a private house rather than a shelter. It was run by an elderly lady in an impressive 1930s property, which she shared with the cats. She lived upstairs and eighteen cats had the run of the downstairs.

When she invited us in, we were immediately surrounded by all these creatures, sniffing us and rubbing against us. They were clearly perfectly happy, even though they were pretty much left to their own devices. They were all mixed together but there was a very relaxed atmosphere. While we there, I wasn’t aware of any fighting, hissing or spitting – which seemed a good omen. The house was big enough for them to have their own space if they wanted it, or to hang around with a friend if they preferred. The only problem for us was going to be how to choose from the many cats there. Chris and I had taken two wicker cat baskets with us, and there was no way I was leaving without my new companions.

The lady said it was feeding time and we followed her through to the kitchen, where there were stainless steel dishes, for water and meat and crunchy snacks, dotted around everywhere. She put enough food into each bowl to feed four cats, although it was a bit of a squeeze. We stood there watching them, hoping for inspiration or for one of them to come over to us.

After a little while, Chris nudged my arm with his elbow and raised his eyebrows towards the window sill. We both looked over and the cat lady noticed. ‘Oh, that’s Tuppence,’ she said, indicating a big white cat with black markings and the most beautiful blue-green eyes. ‘He’s a lovely boy’ she continued, ‘very inquisitive and friendly. He came from an elderly gentleman who loved Siamese cats and Tuppence was the only one who wasn’t that breed. I think he must have a bit of Siamese in him though, because his eyes look exactly the same. He’d be perfect for you.’ We both thought so too. I liked the way he was watching everyone, biding his time until things calmed down. I agreed that he would be ideal, but whom else should we take?

‘He’s got a friend, you know,’ said the lady, as we picked Tuppence up and popped him into the basket. ‘Come on now, Morse, where are you?’ she chatted, looking around at the cats on the work surfaces.

‘Morse?’ I asked.

She laughed as she explained to me that this fellow had arrived at her door one evening as she was watching Inspector Morse on TV and she’d thought it was a sign that she should call him Morse. The name jarred with me straight away. As soon as she pointed out the beautiful long-haired black and white cat eating his lunch, I knew he needed a new name – I also knew he was the one for me. If you’ve ever chosen a pet, you’ll know there are some animals you simply connect with immediately. I felt it the moment I looked at ‘Morse’. I glanced over at Chris.

‘What do you think?’ I asked.

‘It’s up to you,’ he said. ‘He certainly is a very good-looking cat.’