Casper the Commuting Cat: The True Story of the Cat Who Rode the Bus and Stole Our Hearts (12 page)

From what I learned, picked up from lots of little conversations, I don’t think the drivers encouraged Casper to begin with, as they were concerned that he was going to get lost. He seemed to have just worn them down. As they always saw him in the same shelter, and they guessed that he lived nearby, they started to let their defences down. He was very fast and I don’t believe he waited in the queue to begin with – his initial concern was to get on the bus quickly and be allowed to stay there. It was only once he had established his right to be on the bus that he remembered his manners. Once the drivers had seen him often, they let him get away with it. Casper had also been the subject of a lot of chat in the depot, and once the drivers knew they weren’t the only ones letting him nap and giving him free trips, they didn’t feel so bad about what they were doing.

As time went on, Casper’s regular trips started to be noticed by passengers too. I later discovered that there were those who would pick him up when he got back to Poole Park Road if he showed no sign of waking up, and gently pop him into the shelter across from his house, before getting back on the bus and finishing their own journey. I was starting to get the feeling that there were a lot of good people around who were doing all they could to look after Casper when I wasn’t there, and I was particularly grateful to the drivers.

One of the drivers said she often stopped opposite my house for her break, and she’d let Casper on while she waited or read her newspaper, but she was very nervous about driving off with him as she had no idea that he was doing this so often and he always found his way back home. Once her break time was up, she would collect Casper from whatever seat he had chosen and pop him back in the shelter, so he got a little time on the bus but she didn’t have the worry of wondering whether he was going to get lost. It turned out that quite a few of the drivers were taking pictures of Casper on their mobile phones to show to family and friends who were a bit suspicious about whether this was actually happening.

I wanted to thank all the First bus drivers (the only buses Casper seemed to like) for what they had done and what they were continuing to do, so I decided to write them a thank you letter. Rob had originally put up posters in the depot, but I didn’t know how successful they’d been nor did I realize that they were in a position where every driver would see them, so I hit upon the idea of using the letters page in my local newspaper to show my appreciation.

The
Plymouth Herald
is read by lots of people in the area. It’s a daily publication and I’d seen many of the drivers with a copy beside them Without thinking of the furore to come – how could I know? – I scribbled down a quick letter, briefly outlining what Casper was up to, and thanking everyone at First for their fantastic help. I suppose I also wanted other people to know how obliging the bus company had been, as readers were often quick to complain about things. It seemed like an efficient way to pass on my thanks as well as to recognize publicly all the wonderful people who were being so kind to me and Cassie. The letter read:

A few days later, I got a call from Rob to see whether I was willing for him to give my number to a local journalist who wanted to talk about Cassie. What was that all about, I asked him? He said that the thank you note I’d written to the letter page had been seen by someone and they thought the story was fantastic. Now they wanted to chat to me and see what else they could uncover. To be honest, I thought that was odd, but saw no harm in it. From finding it hard to believe that Casper had been getting on the bus at all, I’d now discovered from so many people that he was a regular – and happy – passenger that it almost seemed quite normal to me.

Only now do I know what was happening behind the scenes at the
Plymouth Herald.
At the newspaper, there is someone who is in charge of the letters page and who looks over everything to see if there are stories that should be followed up. Apparently, Casper’s tale fell into this category and my letter was passed on to the news editor, who asked one of the journalists to set up an interview This journalist had to go out to another story, so passed it on to a colleague called Edd Moore. Edd then called Rob for my phone number, which he gave out after checking with me. Rob also suggested that Edd get in touch with the PR department of First bus to see if they could help out.

The rest, as they say, is history. A whole network of people was falling into place, all of whom would be instrumental in getting Cassie’s story out to the world. They would prove to be individuals with hearts of gold. If Edd hadn’t followed the story up, if First bus hadn’t been so helpful about telling everyone what was happening, if Rob had never written that first poster, the entire tale of Casper the commuting cat might never have come to light. That would have been terribly sad, as I know how much pleasure people have had in talking about him and what memories his presence conjured up.

Rob asked around in the depot to find out as much as he could about Casper’s trips, and discovered that out of the hundred drivers (who swap routes quite frequently) most had come into contact with him. Rob told me that he was pretty impressed by Casper’s antics, such as always seeming to know where to get off, but he’d heard some other funny animal tales in the past.

When Rob worked in Hertford, there had been a Jack Russell whose owner couldn’t walk him because of illness, so the dog used to get on the bus every day for a little trip. Rob found out that there were times when Casper used to do more than one circuit, going back into town again even though the bus had returned to Poole Park Road. It wasn’t that he was asleep, it was just that he fancied a longer trip out.

As long as Casper was happy, the drivers were perfectly content to let him stay there. There was, by now, a running commentary on Casper going on in the depot, and some drivers were a little jealous if he hadn’t been on their bus or they hadn’t been allocated the number 3 since we’d moved there.

It wasn’t a surprise to me that Rob, like so many other people who became part of this story, was an animal lover. He had cats of his own, as well as rescue dogs, and couldn’t remember a time in his life when there had been no pets. One of his most vivid emotional memories was of the time when, at the age of twenty-three and just married, his beloved Bearded Collie of fourteen years had to be put down. ‘I was destroyed, absolutely heartbroken,’ he recalls, ‘and I think that anyone who has ever loved a pet knows exactly how they become part of your life, leaving a huge gap when they go. Winston had been there all through my teenage years and I’d told him all my problems. Your pets never judge, they just give comfort, and I don’t think it matters what age you are when they go; the sense of loss is just overwhelming.’

It was this recognition of how close many of us are to our pets that I feel made Rob so open to Casper’s tale. He’d previously sent notes around to the drivers to tell them that, should they hurt an animal by accident, they must leave a note, find the owner or take the animal to the vet. I hadn’t realized until then that there is no law in this country to oblige someone who has a road accident with a cat to report it to anyone. If you run over a dog, you must tell the police or the owner, but cats are deemed somehow less important than dogs and there is no such obligation when they are involved. The official line on this anomaly is that the law considers that cats cannot be trained as dogs can, so their owners are not responsible for any injury or damage done by them It was a point that would, sadly, come back to haunt me and one that I fully intend to do something about.

After I had agreed that Rob could pass on my number, I got two calls – the first was from a lady called Karen Baxter, who was in charge of publicity and public relations at First Group. Karen told me how much she loved what she had heard about Casper and was very keen to help out with any story. I was delighted by this. I had no idea what was going on or why anyone would be interested in my little cat, so I was more than happy for a professional to give me some advice. The next call was from Edd, the journalist, asking if he could come and meet Casper and me with a view to writing something in the
Plymouth Herald.
Again, I was willing for him to do so, but what, I wondered, could possibly interest all of Plymouth in my cat?

I didn’t want any attention for myself. All I’d wanted was to say ‘thank you’ to people in a very low-profile way. I thought that Edd would probably come along and see that this was no story at all. How could he possibly make a headline out of it? I never dreamed it would go further. I only gave in to get some peace and quiet.

Chris was away during most of this. He knew that Casper was riding the buses, but he had no idea that the story was getting bigger. We laughed about a few things when he was home. We’d found out that Cassie only ever went on First buses, never the ones from the company that had been so rude to me when I asked for their help, and we joked that he had good taste. I did mention to him that Edd was coming, but, like me, he almost brushed it aside. Neither of us had ever had any dealings with the media, and we were rather naive about such things.

When Edd turned up, I was relieved that he was so friendly and straightforward. He fussed over Casper and chatted as we had a cup of tea. He told me that this was a lovely story that he was sure would appeal to the readers who were looking for a bit of light and happiness in the middle of quite depressing times. ‘It gets people down when they just read miserable things day after day’ he said, ‘and what Casper gets up to will really put a smile on their faces. We have to cover crime and burglaries and unemployment – it’s just part of the job – but every so often it’s lovely to have something to take the doom and gloom away.’ Edd thought that Casper would manage to do just that.

The next day a photographer arrived to take a picture of Casper. I was horrified when they asked me to be in some photographs too – it was pouring with rain and I certainly didn’t feel camera-ready. Casper was getting fidgety and he was very wet. He desperately wanted down, and I realized it was because there was a bus coming. As it came closer, I shrieked that it was the wrong bus. In my mind, it had to be a First bus that was in the picture, as those were the ones that Cassie liked; however, the photographer said it didn’t matter, and started snapping away. Those pictures of Cassie with ‘the wrong bus’ went around the world, and are doing the rounds to this day – an inaccuracy that really bothers me.

The photographer finished up and left. Edd said that the story would be in the papers the next day but it turned out that something else happened, which meant it wasn’t there when I looked. ‘Never mind, Casper,’ I said to him ‘It was never meant to be.’ I knew that not all stories ended up in the paper, and I assumed that Casper’s tale wasn’t quite as important as other things. With all that was going on in the world, perhaps the editor had decided that the paper was better filled with rather more serious tales after all.

I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or not. I suppose I’d got rather carried away with the excitement of it all, even though I’d never felt that comfortable to begin with. Now that it had ended as a bit of a damp squib, Casper and I were back where we’d started – which was fine. We were happy then, we’d be happy now At least I had information about what he got up to and many more new friends to talk to on the bus every day. I believed that the article had been passed over, and things would go on as before – how wrong I was.

When I opened the newspaper on Wednesday, 29 July 2009, I could hardly believe my eyes. Casper was in the
Plymouth Herald
after all, a few days later than we’d anticipated. Of course, I’d spoken with Edd; I’d known that he was going to write the story, but seeing it in black and white made everything real. There was my Cassie in the paper where all of Plymouth could read about his adventures. I later found out that because there had been an ongoing story about a different bus company that had taken over the headlines for a few days, they had thought it best to leave another bus story until there was more space. Now that time had come.

It felt surreal to see Cassie’s story plastered over the pages of the
Plymouth Herald.
Edd’s article read: