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

The afternoon turned into evening and still there was no sign of him I started to wonder if he had got on a First bus and become confused, so I rang Rob in customer services, as he had always been so helpful. I was frantic by the time I asked him to please put out another notice asking the drivers to be alert for Cassie. He couldn’t have been more obliging and typed up the poster as we talked.

Nothing happened and I spent the whole evening running between the front and back doors, calling his name, desperate to hear his little collar tinkle. By midnight, I was exhausted and knew that I had to go to bed. I suspected that he was well and truly lost, but there was nothing I could do in the dark and I would need my strength come daylight, when I would search for him until I could walk no more.

I opened the front door one last time and there he was. I cuddled him, scolded him, kissed him – every emotion was swirling around in relief that he was finally home. He seemed exhausted and I noticed that his pads were burning hot. ‘Oh Casper,’ I cried, ‘what’s happened to you, my darling?’

I’d always been so worried that something awful would occur and now it looked as if it had. When I took him into the light, I could see that his pads were bright red and all I could think was that he had indeed got on the broken-down bus or one of the breakdown trucks and then was spooked. Perhaps he realized that he was on an unfamiliar route or got a fright at some point, but I think he must have got off somewhere he didn’t recognize and then spent the day walking home.

Usually when he came back, he went straight for something to eat, but this time he flaked out on the floor as if he couldn’t move a muscle. He was flat out as I brought some food to him He struggled to lift his head so that he could eat lying down, but he was so weak that he could barely do even that.

It was a terribly close incident; it was only his amazing homing instinct that had brought Casper back to me. He remained tired for a while, and though his pads recovered, he seemed reluctant to go out for a few days.

His tendency to go walkabout remained undiminished, however. On another occasion, one of the First drivers asked me when I was going to work whether Casper had got home all right the day before. I said he had, but what had made him ask? ‘Well,’ he said, ‘he got on as usual but someone must have scared him or thrown him off the seat, because he got off at a stop that wasn’t one of his usual ones.’

He got home in one piece then but I was starting to feel as if every time Casper went out that might be the last time I’d see him There was a constant fear that he would jump in a delivery van and the driver would unwittingly take him away without even knowing he was there.

I tried so hard to discourage him from crossing the road, but how can you stop an animal who has his independence? I don’t know what his life was like before we got him, but perhaps he was always on roads. Cats are so free spirited; our fears may just be the price we have to pay for their companionship. I’d have to lock Casper in and tie him up to stop him from going out – and, believe me, I’ve been tempted.

Casper broke the cat flap twice; he completely smashed it while I was at work I got home to find a scene of mayhem and a missing cat, which proved to me how determined he was when he put his mind to things. It was as if he couldn’t bear to be a prisoner. Given that he was so light-footed, there were times when he managed to sneak past me without me having the slightest notion that he had done so. I’d be sitting quite happily on the sofa, thinking how well I’d done to keep Casper in that day, when he’d stroll in without a care in the world, his dirty fur and hunger proving that he had been out all day when I’d thought he was upstairs sleeping like a good boy.

One summer, when it felt as if the traffic on the road outside was even faster than usual, I decided to make a concerted effort to keep him in. However, it was so hot that I needed to open windows to let some air in. What was I going to do?

The stuffiest room seemed to be our bedroom. I thought that if I could get a little breeze in there during the day, Chris and I might have a better chance of sleeping at night. I went to the garden centre and got some pieces of trellis that I rigged up so the windows could be opened but Casper couldn’t get near the small part that I worried he would squeeze through. I should have known he would see it as a challenge not a barrier. By the end of the first day, he had wiggled his way through somehow, jumped out of the window and onto the roof, leaped down onto the dustbins below and trotted across the road.