by Susan Finden
After a little while, Chris nudged my arm with his elbow and raised his eyebrows towards the window sill. We both looked over and the cat lady noticed. ‘Oh, that’s Tuppence,’ she said, indicating a big white cat with black markings and the most beautiful blue-green eyes. ‘He’s a lovely boy’ she continued, ‘very inquisitive and friendly. He came from an elderly gentleman who loved Siamese cats and Tuppence was the only one who wasn’t that breed. I think he must have a bit of Siamese in him though, because his eyes look exactly the same. He’d be perfect for you.’ We both thought so too. I liked the way he was watching everyone, biding his time until things calmed down. I agreed that he would be ideal, but whom else should we take?
‘He’s got a friend, you know,’ said the lady, as we picked Tuppence up and popped him into the basket. ‘Come on now, Morse, where are you?’ she chatted, looking around at the cats on the work surfaces.
‘Morse?’ I asked.
She laughed as she explained to me that this fellow had arrived at her door one evening as she was watching Inspector Morse on TV and she’d thought it was a sign that she should call him Morse. The name jarred with me straight away. As soon as she pointed out the beautiful long-haired black and white cat eating his lunch, I knew he needed a new name – I also knew he was the one for me. If you’ve ever chosen a pet, you’ll know there are some animals you simply connect with immediately. I felt it the moment I looked at ‘Morse’. I glanced over at Chris.
‘What do you think?’ I asked.
‘It’s up to you,’ he said. ‘He certainly is a very good-looking cat.’
I went over to stroke him and he started to purr. ‘Hello, my darling,’ I whispered. ‘How would you like to come and live with us?’ He nuzzled into my shoulder as I picked him up and walked to the cat basket. When we got there, we found another cat had taken up residence.
‘Come on, Georgina,’ shooed the lady. ‘That’s not for you; you’re staying here with me.’ My heart sank. The poor little thing had clambered in; she clearly thought she was coming home with us.
‘Tuppence and Morse will be perfect together,’ the lady said. ‘Morse has been here for ten months. I don’t know why no one has taken him. He’s a lovely cat. So many people seemed on the verge of giving him a home then changed their minds at the last minute.’
I looked at Georgina in the basket but, listening to the cat lady’s words, I couldn’t help feeling that Morse had been waiting for us. As we walked out with him and Tuppence, I felt such a pang for the cat we’d left behind. To this day I regret not taking her, but even at the time I knew we had two new boys in our lives who were perfect for us.
When we got back to Weymouth, the cats shot upstairs as soon as we let them out. Over the course of the day, it became clear that Tuppence was a dreadful bag of nerves, although he seemed to crave affection from us.
As for Morse – well, that cat was one for the vanishing act! He wouldn’t come out from under the bed no matter what I tried – not even for food. I called his name. I made smoochy noises. I told him how the other cats desperately wanted to meet him, hoping that he would understand every word. None of it worked. As soon as I saw him edge out slightly, he’d spot me and dart back under again.
‘He’s fast, isn’t he?’ commented Chris as he walked downstairs after yet another failed attempt to retrieve Morse. ‘That’s quite the disappearing act he’s perfected there.’
Chris was right. My arms were aching for a good old cuddle with this cat, but he was making me wait. Suddenly, it came to me, ‘Chris!’ I shouted. ‘That’s what we’ll call him; that’s what his name should be – Casper the disappearing ghost!’ I crouched down on the floor for the last time that night and peered into the big eyes shining out at me.
‘Hello, Casper,’ I whispered gently, ‘welcome home.’
CHAPTER 2
Finding Mum
Casper
Humans like to be in charge. They like to think that they decide things, that they determine what will happen and when. I find this most amusing, as any cat knows it is us who has them under our paws. As I’m very fond of people, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and see their need for control as one of their many little foibles.
When Sue and Chris came to the house where I lived on that day in December 2002, I wasn’t sure, at first, whether I would choose them. They, in turn, thought they had complete freedom to pick whoever took their fancy when choosing ‘their’ cat. How funny that humans think that way!
The place where I lived was comfortable and safe. It was a large building with plenty of space for me and my fellow cats, and we all got along well. There were lots of us and we stayed downstairs while the human kept to the top part of the house, where there was nothing of interest. The lady who thought she was in charge did have some strange ways. Despite the size of the house, and the availability of rooms, she chose to feed us from far too few bowls. She expected four of us to share each one! As we obviously couldn’t go into the cupboard to get more, we were gracious enough to accept this arrangement. However, I think it indicates the curious nature of some human behaviour. Would you want to share your breakfast, lunch and supper plates with individuals who had been complete strangers not so long before? I didn’t think so. Thankfully, cats can be very adaptable – when we want to be.
Humans also have a tendency to talk to us cats constantly. Do you think we can understand your strange warblings, or are you doing it for your own benefit? Whatever the reason, the constant one-sided conversation, which our carer had been having since first light, had brought to our attention that a prospective mum and dad would be arriving today, and that they were called ‘Sue’ and ‘Chris’.
I’d been staying in that house for some time and was quite happy there to begin with. I’d made some good friends, especially with a lovely fellow called Tuppence, and never felt inclined to go home with any of the people who had previously come looking for a feline. However, things change, and I was beginning to hanker after a smaller house where I would have my own bowl and my own bed, and could concentrate on making sure things were exactly as I liked them.
When Sue and Chris arrived, most of the others I shared with ran to have a look. They were keen to make themselves presentable, which is all very well, but as I knew I was naturally friendly and loving (when I chose to be), I didn’t see any point in being part of the beauty parade. Instead, I thought I’d be canny, so I watched to see their reaction.
The lady seemed to be the one making the decision, but I was delighted to notice that they were both very kind and caring towards all of my friends. As I listened to their chatter and watched their reactions, I was pleased. These were people I could easily learn to love, but there was a problem: I had grown extremely fond of Tuppence and didn’t really want to leave him behind if I chose to move on.
Thankfully, as I looked on, I could see that Tuppence was making a very good impression. They were discussing his looks and temperament, and everything appeared to be going very well. The lady of the house was telling them that Tuppence had a friend – yours truly. At that point, I stood up from my lunch bowl, stretched and began to wash myself.
Now, to be honest with you, washing isn’t something I can always be bothered with – no sooner does it seem to be finished than it’s time to start again. As a result, I often feel it makes more sense to wait until it absolutely can’t be avoided. However, I know that humans put great store in such behaviour on the part of cats (although humans never seem to lick themselves), so I felt it prudent to indulge them.
While I was very keen to make sure I went with Tuppence, I was drawn to Sue when she seemed taken aback by the name I’d been given. For some reason to do with the large black box full of moving pictures that humans stare at for hours on end, I was being referred to as Morse. It wasn’t a name that suited me terribly well and I was delighted to see that Sue thought so too. That boded well.
Tuppence was placed in one transport container, and one of my friends was u
nceremoniously removed from the other. I was put in her place, and off we went. I felt I had chosen well.
I was taken to a warm and welcoming house, and my new mum was very careful to ensure that I was as comfortable as could be. Tuppence settled in very quickly, but I was amazed to find that there were as many cats in Sue’s place as there had been in my last home – or so it seemed. The smells and sounds of any new accommodation can be frightening, and I needed to make sense of where I was. I hastily beat a retreat upstairs and into the first room I saw.
There was a bed to hide beneath and I determined to stay there until I felt more secure. Both of my new parents were as kind as could be – they brought treats and frequently tried to draw me out, but I would come out only in my own time. If this was the place where I was going live, I needed it to be on my terms.
My mum visited me every hour and did all she could to make me happy. From this I could tell she was indeed a good person, as I had suspected from the start. She brought me some morsels, which were very tempting. All in all, she was teasing me out with her kindness. The ultimate weapon she had was the one that finally brought me out from my hiding place. As she called me by my new name, I knew I was in the place I was meant to be.
Casper . . . that was me!
CHAPTER 3
Our Family
Casper may have had a new name, but he wasn’t too impressed with his new home. He had come into a house full of other cats, although he wouldn’t have known that from his hiding place under the bed. The cats had arrived via different routes and with varied histories. I hoped that Casper would venture out soon so he could meet his new family.
At the time, I was working in a centre for adults with learning disabilities in Weymouth. A few years earlier, one member of staff, Bill, had opened up a cat rescue centre to try to help local kitties. Bill came in one morning to say that they had a geriatric black cat being advertised in the paper the next day. He was hoping to get a good home for him, as he was such an old fluffy darling; he was sure that he would settle well and be a fantastic addition to any carer’s life.
My husband Chris is a long-distance lorry driver and was away on a job that day. When he called me later that night, I was full of stories about Bill’s cat. No sooner had I finished telling him than he simply said, ‘If you want him, Sue, have him.’
I was delighted and skipped into work the next morning to beg Bill, ‘Please, please, can we have the cat you were telling me about?’
He laughed at me. ‘You could have saved me the money for the newspaper ad if you’d said that yesterday! I’d be over the moon if you took him, and I won’t even have to do a house inspection, will I?’
We arranged for Bill to bring him round that night. I already knew what I’d call him – Jack, as in Jack Daniels. At that time, all our cats had ‘boozy’ names, which makes us sound like a right pair; we’re not raving alcoholics, I just liked to have a theme. As always, I was excited waiting for the cat to arrive. Receiving a new member of the family is, to me, as thrilling as waiting for someone to have a baby. Although I’d already chosen the name of this cat, I was still thrilled to find out what he would be like, what his personality would reveal to us and how he would get on with the others.
When Bill brought him in, I was struck by how beautiful this cat was, but as soon as Bill put him down on the carpet, I noticed he had wobbly back legs, which gave him an unusual walk. In fact, he fell over quite often as he walked along. The vet Bill used for the rescue centre said that he had arthritis, but it didn’t look like that to me. I’d had cats who’d suffered from the condition and this seemed different.
Jack settled in very well and it wasn’t long before we felt as if he had been with us forever. He was good-natured and caused no trouble. Everyone who visited loved him. Like me, they didn’t know what to make of his strange walk. I was mystified, until one day a friend called Peter came round for a coffee and saw Jack for the first time.
He watched him for a while, walking around with his distinct wobble, then said, ‘That’s Edmund.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I know that cat,’ Peter said, ‘and he’s called Edmund.’
I scoffed at him How could he know my cat?
‘Well, there aren’t many cats who walk round Weymouth like that, falling over every two minutes, are there?’ he replied.
My heart sank. If Peter knew him, then he must belong to someone and wasn’t just a stray Bill had picked up. If he belonged to someone, then I’d have to give him back. This was always my concern when taking in cats from rescue centres: perhaps they were lost rather than abandoned, and, if they were found one day, I’d have no choice but to give them back. I would never knowingly keep a cat from its rightful owners, no matter how much I cared for it. I said as much to Peter, who immediately put my mind at rest.
‘No, Sue, you’ve got no worries in that department. I’m thrilled to bits that you’ve got him. He belonged to this couple I knew – George and Hilary. Their marriage was rocky from the day it started and it didn’t get any better. Poor Edmund, or Jack, was a casualty of their divorce, really.’
Peter told me that when Hilary left, George felt he couldn’t look after the cat as well, which is why he ended up in the rescue centre. Hilary was now living in the area again, and Peter was able to get in touch with her to say that we had Edmund/Jack. If she wanted him back and could offer him a safe home, I’d have to let him go.
My heart was in my mouth as I waited to hear from Peter. He said he would do all he could to contact Hilary quickly, but as the days passed I got myself into a terrible state, wondering each morning whether it would be my last one with Jack.
Finally, Peter did get back in touch. He had told Hilary that Chris and I had her cat, and explained to her that we loved him dearly. It transpired that she was over the moon at the news: she had been worried about the cat for ages and was now more than happy for us to keep him, as she wasn’t in a position to take him back. I felt like jumping up and down when I realized that Jack would be staying with us. Peter gave Hilary regular updates on how he was getting on, and it was a happy ending for everyone.
Jack soon settled in and turned into a very loving boy whose favourite hobby was being brushed; I was quite happy to be the one doing all the brushing. Towards the end of his days, he became unwell, and I tried to treat him as I would want to be treated myself. I’d lie on the floor with him, saying his name over and over again, telling him that everything would be all right and that we loved him. Of course, these were empty words to some degree – the love was there, but he was clearly so ill that everything was not going to be all right. I feel that we offer such words of comfort for the peace they may bring through their tone and repetition as much as anything else. I tried to keep my voice steady and my presence calming while I lay beside him. Affer a while, he would seem calmer. I would whisper to Jack he was such a good boy and I was very proud of him, but I knew that his time was running out. By the time Jack was put to sleep, I’d seen him through so many bad times that I could take some comfort that he was finally at peace.
When we first got Casper, Jack was very much part of the family. He had fit in easily, unlike the new boy. Those early days showed us just how stubborn Casper could be. His determination could outlast everyone else’s.
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.