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

Casper was also sharing his new home with our lovely ginger boy, Oscar. We hadn’t chosen Oscar; he’d decided to come and live with us. When we lived in a different house in Weymouth, he’d been homed a few doors down the road from us. It wasn’t long after we moved in that he decided he would take up residence too. I’ve heard lots of similar stories and it seems as if the determined nature of some cats simply won’t yield to humans trying to tell them where to live. Of course, if there is cruelty or ill treatment involved, then you can understand why a cat with the freedom to roam would choose a kinder habitat. As far as I could tell, Oscar had a perfectly decent home; he just opted for a change.

I knew one lady who had looked after her cat beautifully for years, then, after a new family moved in next door, she never spent another night with him He would sit in their garden or on their wall, looking at her as if he could almost remember who she was but didn’t really have that much interest. She had done so much for that cat, but he preferred the new people. They were terribly apologetic about it, but, as my friend knew that her cat was being well looked after, she had no concerns – even if she was a little offended by his lack of loyalty. She told me it was as if he’d been waiting for his new family all along and had simply been passing the time with her. How funny cats are!

My Oscar was a very affectionate creature, towards both people and other animals, but he sprayed a lot, so I wondered whether he was stressed about something. The frustrating thing is that you can never know what is going on in a cat’s head to make it act in a particular way, and you can never find out whether there was something in its past that is still affecting it. If only they could speak!

Casper had other new companions to get used to besides Oscar and Jack. We also had KP and Peanut, who’d originally been my son’s cats. When he was widowed at a tragically young age, my son felt overwhelmed. I was happy to help out by taking in this sister pair. One of the reasons my son felt he couldn’t cope with the cats was that KP had thyroid problems and required daily medication to help her live a healthy life. She was a quiet, reserved little thing, quite shy – just like her sister, who recently developed the same thyroid condition. KP and Peanut didn’t have much to do with Casper for a while, because, as siblings, they had each other. However, as the years went by and we sadly lost KP to ill health, Peanut and Casper got friendlier.

Clyde, a huge gentle giant of a cat, was friendly with everyone. He weighed over a stone, but he was the one other kitty who broke into KP and Peanut’s little gang. Clyde’s favourite thing was to lie on his back and have his tummy stroked – he would roll over as soon as he saw anyone go near the cat brush, so you felt obliged to give him what he was so clearly desperate for. He also loved having his face washed by other cats, and it was KP who spent most time doing this.

Maybe it was no wonder that Casper took so long to come out of his hiding place; he must have wondered what mad cat world he had come into. Maybe he’d imagined his new home would be quiet, with only him and Tuppence in it. Instead, he had been transplanted somewhere full of cats and he was going to make us wait until he was ready before we were allowed to feel he had well and truly settled in.

Casper was joining a distinguished extended family of rather naughty cats. Whisky came to mind whenever I thought of all the cheeky things we’d witnessed over the years. She hadn’t been with us for long before she got up to nonsense. We prepared for Christmas when she was about four months old, setting up a huge real Christmas tree, laden with baubles on its strong branches. One day I went to work as usual, but when I got back I found the tree lying on its side in the sitting room with all the decorations spread on the floor, and what seemed like a million pine needles festooning the place. Sitting beside the tree was a little black ball of fluff looking terribly innocent – Whisky. As I got closer to her, I noticed an odd bulge in her mouth and then saw the green cable stuck between her lips. Our angelic looking little Whisky had a Christmas tree light in her mouth – thank goodness I’d unplugged the lights before going to work. From then on, we’ve always had artificial Christmas trees, but the cats in our lives have never run short of mischievous things to do.

CHAPTER 4

Sue’s Story

I’ve always loved cats. Often upsetting events in people’s lives can make their bond with other creatures even stronger, and I had one particularly sad experience that I believe strengthened the close ties I felt with animals.