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

CHAPTER 24

Casper’s Passing

It was 8.45a.m. on 14 January 2010 when I got the knock at my door that I’d always dreaded.

I was halfway through getting dressed when I heard the noise. It could have been anyone, I suppose – a delivery, some early post, a neighbour. But I knew I just knew, as I walked down the stairs, that as soon as I opened the door, the rug would be pulled out from under me. Do we have some sort of sixth sense when bad things, awful things, are about to affect our lives? Not always – there can be a phone call in the middle of the night that we never expected or a letter that contains information that will change our lives, and they are bolts from the blue. However, I’ve always had feelings about things – premonitions and senses. On this day I desperately wanted to be wrong, but a sense of foreboding warned me against opening the door, told me not to listen to whatever the person on the other side had to say. Sadly, I had no choice. I had to open the door.

Waiting for me on the other side was a lady I vaguely knew. She lived in the same street and I often saw her walking past with her little girl. We had said ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about Casper from time to time, and she was always friendly and interested in what he was up to. That day she was as white as a ghost and shaking.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this but . . . it’s Casper. He’s been hit.’

I listened to the words but they were no surprise to me. Since the moment I’d heard the doorbell, I’d known this was it. This was the moment when all my worst nightmares were about to come true. I felt as if the woman’s voice was coming through a tunnel as she continued to tell me what had happened. It came to me in fragments . . .

There was a car . . . a taxi . . .

Going too fast . . . speeding ...

If he had crossed the road a moment earlier or a moment later . . . he didn’t stand a chance . . .

I heard a bang . . . Casper ... Casper . . .

The woman said that she’d been walking along Poole Park Road when she was aware of a vehicle driving up behind her. She heard a bang so loud that she’d turned around. She realized that the private hire taxi was driving along at such a rate that she needed to push her little girl off the pavement onto a grass verge, as she thought the car might hit the toddler. The taxi sped past, not slowing down in the slightest. She checked that her child was all right, then looked back again to see what had caused the bang.

It was Casper.

She had heard Casper being hit.

I grabbed a coat to put over my nightdress, vaguely aware that she was still talking. ‘He was hit,’ she said, ‘but he’s still alive. I saw him crawl across the road, Sue. Maybe he’s OK?’ There was desperation in her voice and panic in my heart. I raced out the door, past the woman who was still standing there with her little girl, both of them quiet, both of them waiting to see whether Casper was safe.

The woman called, ‘I think he’s under a parked car,’ just as I realized the same thing myself. He was. Casper was there! In a neighbour’s driveway, under their car, he was hiding. Shivering and terrified, I scooped him up in my arms and hurried back inside. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered to the woman as I went in.

Casper was alive but only just.

My darling cat wasn’t making any noise. I laid him on the sofa with a blanket over him as I flew upstairs to grab some clothes. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. As I put on the first things I could find, I tried to put the image of Casper out of my mind and focus on the fact that he was here with me, and I would do everything in my power to save him I’d never let that dear cat out of my sight again. I’d lock doors, seal windows; I’d move a hundred miles away into the heart of the country if I needed to. I made all of these promises in my head, but it was a desperate ploy to try to block out the image I’d had when I picked him up. His back end had been swinging as if he had no control over it whatsoever and I feared with every part of my body and soul that his back had been broken. Vets can do wonders, I muttered. Vets can work miracles. I knew time was against me and I needed to get a taxi, get to the vet, get things in motion to try to reverse the awful thing that had just happened.

I was away from Cassie for less than a minute, but somehow, in my absence and despite his horrific injuries, he had managed to get off the sofa and was now lying by the door.

Everything seemed to slow down.

I’d been in such a rush, such a panic, but now I felt as if the clocks had stopped. My wonderful Casper was taking his last breaths. I just knew it. I needed no medical expertise, no veterinary education. This was it. This was the end.

I lay down on the floor beside him and stroked him constantly. I don’t know whether he was conscious or not, but I needed to whisper words of comfort for both of us.

What did I say? I don’t know.

What did I feel? During those final moments, I’m not sure.

Together, in love, I held my boy as he left this world.

The pain was almost unbearable, but not being there with Casper as he breathed his last would have been more than I could have endured. I was honoured to be there, even if my heart was breaking. And it was. It truly was.