Susan Finden - Casper the Commuting Cat - The True Story of the Cat Who Rode the Bus and Stole Our Hearts

‘That little chap’s been on my bus for longer than I can remember,’ said one, while most of them went for a vague ‘ages’ when I asked how long he had been travelling.

One woman told me that she always checked the internal mirrors before driving off from a stop, and the day she first saw Casper reflected in one of them she got quite a start. People leave handbags, newspapers and sweets on the seats, but she’d never seen a cat there before.

As I pieced everything together, I discovered that he liked to sit in the front seat where I had originally been or the back one where the noise of the engine was loudest. He was always perfectly happy to be stroked, tickled or even picked up by passengers. He was sometimes asleep before they moved off from the bus stop, and, most amusingly of all, he always waited in line. They all said that Casper was never at the front of the queue or the back. He waited between people, in the middle, and the other passengers seemed happy with that too, never pushing past him or jumping the queue. How British is that? We love our queues so much that we even apply the rules to cats. I was astounded.

Some of the drivers said that Casper would often wait in the bus stop but not always get on a bus when it came. It was as if he had his favourites or was waiting for one in particular. They joked that they got quite offended if he decided not to get on theirs, and they’d ask him, ‘What’s wrong with me, then?’ One driver told me that he’d seen Cassie waiting in the shelter many times but he’d never once deigned to get on the bus he was driving – he wondered why he wasn’t one of the chosen ones.

There was one part of the story that I found hard to get my head around. I had thought that Casper was probably staying on the bus for one stop, then jumping off and trotting back home again, but as they told me about his sleeping patterns, I wondered how long his trips were.

The number three went round Barne Barton before coming to St Budeaux. From the stop opposite my house, it travelled along the Wolseley Road to Camels Head, down Saltash Road past HMS Drake , St Levan Gate, Albert Gate, then on to Park Avenue through Devonport, where it would take the trip into the city centre. In the city centre, everyone would get off, the bus would travel up the end of town, turn round and then start the opposite journey all over again. It was quite a trip. ‘Does he get off at St Budeaux Square?’ I asked one driver. It was just over five minutes from where I lived.

‘Are you joking?’ he replied. ‘Casper?’ They all knew his name by now thanks to Rob’s posters. ‘That wouldn’t be far enough for him, would it? Casper likes his little journey.’

‘So, where does he go then?’ I wondered, with my heart sinking. If he went any further than the Square, how would he know how to get home?

‘He does the round trip,’ I was told.

‘He does WHAT ?’ I screeched.

‘Oh yes, Casper likes to go into the city centre, then come back again – door-to-door service.’

‘But the bus stops in the city centre, everyone gets off, the driver takes it to the end of the terminus and turns round to the other side of the road before letting anyone else on. Isn’t that what happens?’

‘Yes ... usually,’ came the reply. ‘But Casper’s different, isn’t he?’

I was starting to realize that. ‘In what way?’ I asked.

‘Well, we don’t kick him off, do we? That wouldn’t be right. Anyway, he’s usually asleep – and we know where he wants to go. He’s just coming back to Poole Park Road. We only ask the humans to get off. Casper gets special privileges – as I said, door-to-door service.’

I was speechless – again. Just what sort of creature was I sharing my life with?

CHAPTER 14

The Joys and Rules of Public Transport

Casper

When leaving the house in the morning, ensure that your mum (or other human) doesn’t see where you’re going. Your travels are a personal matter. Humans are terribly inquisitive about what us cats get up to, and it’s only right that we maintain an air of mystery about some of our activities.

You can comply with rule (1) by doing any of the following:

(i) sneak out when the human is doing their head fur, drawing on their faces, choosing what to wear, or one of the many other things they waste their time with each day; or

(ii) allow them to fuss over you for a while, make them think you are settled for the day and, when they wander off saying you’re a ‘good boy, saunter towards the door casually, then run like hell; or

(iii) ignore them totally as they attempt to keep you inside with threats, promises and compliments. This is the most effective – and satisfying –approach.

Cross the road to a bus shelter that has been previously selected for its proximity to home and availability of seating.

After careful perusal of the bus timetable (some secrets are just too precious to share, so please do not expect me to tell you how us felines access that sort of information), decide which vehicle you will grace with your presence that day. It is advised that you vary the times of buses and drivers you select, so as to make yourself slightly more mysterious and also to amuse yourself as the aforementioned drivers wonder why you never choose them.

Wait in line with the human passengers. This is very important. For some reason, said humans find it odd and amusing when cats share their transport. They are clearly the ones who are odd and amusing, for if they wished to retain such vehicles purely for their own use, why have open doors and comfortable seats? However, if you adhere to bizarre human rules relating to something called ‘queues’, they will change their minds and think your presence is completely natural. Humans are very keen on regulations, which is why they wash themselves only in the privacy of their own homes rather than when they actually need to do so – and they admire any species who can do the same.

Do not draw attention to yourself by pushing to the front of the queue. Allow a human or two in front of you, and a few more behind. By taking up a position in the middle, barely anyone will notice you.

When you enter the vehicle, choose the seat that most appeals to you – from my research, I find a window seat to be most intriguing, as well as those towards the heating at the back of the bus. You may find that a human wishes to share the seat with you – this is unpleasant at times (see my previous comment on their washing habits – not all of them smell quite as fragrant as one would hope), but has to be accepted.

Should a human sit beside you, pretending to be asleep often works (I find that pretence is often not required as there is something about being on a bus that lends itself to a lovely little snooze). Some may be courageous enough to stroke or pat you – allow this. They are generally harmless, and I personally rather like them, so why not indulge their ways?

Ignore rules that are inconvenient or clearly not applicable to our species. I find that drivers on my chosen bus route shout at their fellow humans to get off once we reach what they call a ‘terminus’. This does not suit me. I wish to go back home at the end of my trip, not potter around shops. I find that by ignoring such orders, new rules – much better ones – can be put in place that apply only to felines and allow us to get whatever we want – which is the purpose of life, really.

When you have reached your destination (feel free to stay on the bus for as long as you wish), alight at your home stop, casually wander off, paying no heed to the humans with gaping mouths who are scratching their heads, and trot home to mum (or other human) for a nice snack.