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

by Susan Finden

  I was then curtly informed that the photograph I had sent them to help identify Casper was being returned to me. I was a little shocked by the tone. The driver who had told me what Casper had been up to had been so nice and not seen it as a problem at all. I’d hoped that, by warning other drivers, I’d be able to keep an eye on Casper and warn them of an unusual cat they might find asleep on a seat. I was upset that I was being told to ‘tether’ my cat in a fashion that would stop him walking around freely – surely if I did that I would be a very cruel owner indeed? In fact, if I did that, I would have expected someone to report me to the RSPCA.

  By writing the letter, I hadn’t been asking anyone to take responsibility for Casper, I was simply asking them to be vigilant. This was something I had done on other occasions. For example, when our next-door neighbours moved out and put their house up for sale, I’d popped a note through the door warning the estate agent and prospective buyers that they might find Casper in there, so could they please make sure he wasn’t locked in when they left? I thought I was being a responsible owner, not someone trying to shift the blame onto someone else if, God forbid, something did happen to Cassie.

  This letter had shaken me, but I then realized that the company I had written to was not the one that employed the driver who’d told me about Casper. I hesitated a while, wondering whether I would get the same reception if I called First Devon and Cornwall, but my need to do all I could for my cat was my primary concern, so I found the number for their office and called straight away.

  The attitude there could not have been more different. The phone was answered by a chap who introduced himself as ‘Rob from Customer Services’. As I spoke to him for the first time, I didn’t know what a comfort and help he would become to me over the next few months. Rob would turn out to be one of the people in Casper’s story who would always go beyond the call of duty – even if he thought he was just doing his job – and would prove to be immensely supportive.

  I started to tell Rob what was going on and cautiously asked whether he could maybe warn the other drivers. ‘I’m typing up a notice as we speak,’ he informed me. ‘As soon as I come off the phone to you, I’ll print it off and put it up on the noticeboard and in the canteen.’

  What a difference! Rob was as good as his word, and within minutes, the following notice was posted on the information boards:

  TRAVELLING CAT

  CAN ALL DRIVERS ON SERVICE 3 BE

  AWARE THAT THEY MAY HAVE A FELINE

  PASSENGER ON BOARD WHO HAS BOARDED

  AT THE POOLE PARK ROAD AREA AND IS

  TRAVELLING INTO TOWN. IF HE IS SEEN,

  CAN THE DRIVER CALL CUSTOMER SERVICES

  AND WE WILL CONTACT THE OWNER TO

  MAKE HER AWARE HE IS SAFE AND WELL.

  MANY THANKS – ROB

  I’ve since spoken to Rob and he’s told me that when I first called him, he thought it might be a prank, just as I had when I first heard about what Casper had been doing. He said that after two or three years in customer services, he’s heard most things, but the idea of a cat popping on and off the bus seemed a bit far-fetched. ‘I thought I’d go along with it,’ he recalls. ‘So I asked, “Where does he get on?” All of the things I asked Sue were answered with such openness that I started to think maybe this was true after all. There was so much personal information and she seemed like such a nice lady that I couldn’t help but believe her and decided to do what I could to help out.’

  To me, Rob is such a big part of this story because he, too, is one of those traditional British types who believes in manners and fair play and doing what you can to help people. As I’ve found out more about him, I’ve realized that he didn’t treat me any differently to anyone else that day – he’s like that with every person who calls his line. He always goes out of his way and he always does it with such a lovely manner that he reassures anyone he helps. He later told me that he was raised to believe that good manners cost nothing – a value he is passing on to his own children. He treats everyone as individuals. I was so lucky to have got him on the line that day.

  Rob found that by the time his posters had been up for not much more than half an hour, the drivers were chatting about Casper, so he knew it was all true. The talk in the canteen that day was full of tales of the cat who rode the number three bus. Some of the drivers had mentioned it to each other in the past, when Casper started his antics, but it was as if Rob’s poster had opened the floodgates and they all started discussing whether they had seen Casper on their bus, how often he’d been there, where he went, what seat he liked, what he got up to and all sorts of other things.

  Over the next few days, I started to ask for a bit more information every time I took the bus and I gradually put together more pieces of the Casper jigsaw The drivers didn’t have much time to talk as there were always plenty of passengers getting on and off, but they always seemed to have a moment to tell me about Casper. I’d been promoted to the position of his mum rather than merely his owner and they were delighted to inform me of the misadventures of my boy.

  It seemed as though every time I asked one of them whether they knew him, they did. No one was surprised when I asked the question, and it seemed that I was the odd one out for not knowing what was happening. How long had this been going on, I wondered? Many of them seemed to think it had been since we moved in rather than just a day or two before I discovered it. I was amazed. My cat had a secret life.

  ‘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.

  Cross your paws that no one gives the game away, because if they do, oh dear me . . .

  CHAPTER 15

  Casper Conquers Plymouth

  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. Th
e letter read:

  Thank you to First customer services and the

  drivers on the number 3 bus (Plymouth).

  I would like to personally thank Rob in customer services and all of the drivers who drive the number 3 bus route. Our cat, Casper, insists on boarding at Barne Barton and going for a ride. It appears he has ridden the complete circuit to the city and back home on many occasions, asleep on the seats.

  He is a rescue cat so we have no idea where he originally came from but obviously he has no fear of buses! Thank you most sincerely to all the drivers for being so vigilant and kind to Casper We appreciate it is a nuisance that our cat keeps getting on, so thank you for not putting him off in any strange area. We don’t want to lose him as he is old and a very much-loved pet.

  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.