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

A little depot rivalry developed among the drivers, who would boast about how many times they’d had Casper on their bus. If a colleague hadn’t been given that honour, they’d reflect on what good taste Casper had in choosing them.

Again, Marc reaffirmed my faith in British affection and humour. He told me that as long as Casper was causing no trouble and customers weren’t complaining, there was absolutely no need to do anything to impede his journeys. They were only being human, he says, but I feel they went beyond the call of duty.

There are thirty-eight Plymouths in the world but my little cat put the English one on the map. People there had never experienced a local story becoming such a huge global phenomenon. Lots of drivers told me that they went home to their families at night and the first thing their children would ask them was: ‘Did you have Casper on your bus today?’ He was bringing families closer together. One chap told me that his wife and son hadn’t shown any interest in his work for years, but all of a sudden they wanted him home in the hope that he could give them the latest update on the funny cat.

Marc’s own little boy, Liam, although only a toddler, was starting to link what Daddy did with the cat on the bus. Rob, the driver who had done so much publicity with Casper, had two little girls, Caitlin and Libby, who saw their dad with him and were amazed. They suddenly believed that Daddy was famous and were desperate to meet the cat who was all over the news.

One day I got talking to a young teenage girl at the bus stop and asked her if she had ever seen Casper. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but my dad has had him on his bus.’ Everyone knew Casper! I met her dad, Mike, a few days later and he told me that his five children and four grandchildren all knew about Cassie and they came together to hear stories about him. Mike had welcomed Casper on his bus on many occasions and seen him in the bus shelter even more often – well before the story came out. He says that cats do like bus shelters and he often sees them there, but he’s never before come across one who actually got on the bus.

It put a smile on his face but I felt positively faint when he told me something that I’d never suspected: Casper apparently did not just do the number three circuit; he sometimes got off at the Square, crossed the road and got on another bus to Saltash. Mike joked that Cassie must have had something to do there, as he always seemed quite focused on his trip, but my blood ran cold. Just how far was this cat travelling and how many times was he facing danger every day? Mike has rescue cats and he knew that I was worried when I heard this, but there was nothing I could really do apart from cross my fingers every time my cat left the house.

Another bus driver was gaining a bit of celebrity status himself. Wookie is well known across Plymouth for his various props: the large foam hand he sticks out his window to give the thumbs up to any driver who lets him out, the deerstalker with ear flaps and peaked cap that he wears no matter what the weather and the bizarre green cuddly toy monkey he carries everywhere. Wookie took pictures of Casper and Monkey sharing a snack of chips together, and even posted photos of the two of them on Facebook. If ever anyone epitomized British eccentricity, it was Wookie, and I feel that he and Casper would have got on brilliantly if Cassie ever decided to get on his bus. He considered it on many occasions, but perhaps thought that the luminous green monkey was too much competition.

I heard so many lovely tales from the drivers of how Casper was a wonderful talking point when they arrived home after a shift that my heart was full of pride at how much my little cat was achieving without doing very much. Our society is so fractured at times, and families feel such pressure with work and trying to juggle everything at once, that the happy topic of a cat on the bus brought some light relief and provided a common subject. It wasn’t just the drivers and those at the depot who were experiencing this, but passengers too.

One gentleman contacted me some time after Casper’s story first hit the papers. He wrote:

Dear Sue –

I have been reading the stories about your delightful cat with great interest. Some time ago, I lived in a small state in America where I worked as a teacher When I moved there, a tiny ginger and white cat, not much bigger than a men, had been hanging around the school playground and the teachers weren’t too sure what to do about it. The school I worked in was what we would probably now call one for those with learning difficulties – at the time, there was less concern for what to name things, but sometimes not as much concern as I would have liked for the children. They loved to see this little cat, but there were two members of staff in particular who were adamant that she should be discouraged. The way in which there were so many arguments about this cat taught me more about the school politics than I could have learned in years. The head teacher had named the cat ‘Betsy’ after a cat she herself had loved as a child, and even the way that some teachers refused to call it by that name was a clear indication of how little they liked the head teacher herself rather than anything else. There was a standoff about Betsy the entire time I was at that school which was almost four years. All I could see was that there were children with allergies, or who could not have a pet for other reasons, who lit up when they saw this little ginger thing run across to them. I could see that there were children who were so used to being frustrated by life, by the things they couldn’t do, but who would brighten when they held her in their arms. They always managed to be gentle with her, and she always seemed to know just what they needed. I came back to the UK and never did find out the fate of Betsy, but, for some reason, when I read about Casper in the paper, he reminded me of her all those years ago. I would be willing to bet that your cat has given more love and more hope to people than you can possibly imagine. I now have three cats myself and I am constantly amazed by how they just seem to sense what we need – it seems as if Casper was very much a ‘people cat’ and I am sure that he would have cottoned on to what his fellow travellers needed.

Jim, Manchester

I wish I knew what had happened to Betsy too.

My cats had always shown tremendous compassion for us and for their fellow felines whenever they needed to, and I had no reason to suspect that Casper was any different. I was very proud of my cat for drawing families together and giving a little bit of comfort to people who saw him every day.

CHAPTER 23

Pulling Together

I knew from experience that cats can be a great source of comfort in times of need. The year before we got Casper, Chris had been feeling very unwell and we were pretty sure that he had kidney stones. He went to the doctor for some confirmation blood tests one morning before going to work. The results came through that evening, such was the urgency of what had been uncovered.

He was told to get home immediately and be at the haematology department of our local hospital the next afternoon. I couldn’t understand why he would be sent there for kidney stones. We drove to the hospital in a haze. We were both pretty sure what was going on, as all of Chris’s symptoms pointed to the diagnosis we felt sure he was going to receive. As soon as we arrived, he was taken in to the specialist, who didn’t waste any time in telling us what was wrong.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘there’s no easy way to tell you this. You have leukaemia.’

When she spoke those words, I turned around and looked at the wall behind me. Who was she talking to, I wondered? It couldn’t be us, could it? No, we were here because Chris had kidney stones. She needed to concentrate, I felt, get things right, make sure she had the correct notes. Leukaemia? That was cancer. Chris couldn’t possibly have cancer, he just couldn’t.