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

Epilogue

There are so many little things that I miss about you, Casper. I would love to be able to write you a poem, but that isn’t my talent. All I can do is speak from the heart, the heart that still has your paw prints firmly stamped upon it.

Even though between my children, sisters, brother and myself we have twenty-one rescue cats under our care, I miss the comfort I felt hearing the jingle of your collar disks as you trotted along, knowing that you were safe and couldn’t be too far away if I could hear the sound.

I miss not having to put every scrap of food away in the kitchen, as you were such a dreadful thief. I’d happily have you take whatever you wanted all day long just to have the joy of you back in my life again.

I miss you sitting on the worktop watching me make meals, desperately hoping that a tasty morsel would find its way to you – as it somehow always did.

I miss the way you always had the energy and love to run up and greet me when I got home, no matter how late or early it was, no matter what had been going on in your day or mine.

I miss seeing you sit on the dustbin by the front window, watching the world go by as if there were no finer place to be and no finer pageant to watch.

I miss looking out the bedroom window and laughing as I spotted you sitting in the queue with the other passengers waiting for the bus as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I miss buying your treats and the closeness as we sat on the sofa together in the evening, content with the world, content with the simple pleasures of life.

What would I give to have one last cuddle? So much, so much – but life goes on, and nothing can bring you back, so I can only make a promise to you, which is to recognize all that you gave me and spread your message.

What did I learn from Casper?

Enjoy life.

Take pleasure in the simple things – sunshine, turkey roll and a bus ride might not be what works for you, so find your own recipe for a good life and stick to it.

Find something you love to do and keep doing it.

Believe that the world is a good place full of good people, and you might just find out that you’re right.

That last piece of advice might surprise some people because, were it not for a bad thing done by a thoughtless person, Casper would be here today. However, he taught me something else: good can come from bad. The last few years have been hard ones, but in the middle of it all, it was almost as if Casper decided that he was going to give something to us. His spirit of adventure and love of travel meant that, somehow, he reached out to the world and the world responded. His life brought out something in people – but his death brought out even more. I would never have known how kind strangers could be, how much comfort you could get from someone you’d never met, but each day brings another letter, more caring words, and it’s as if Casper is speaking to me, telling me to hold on, to be brave and to keep his memory alive.

So, thank you, Casper, thank you so much – until we meet again.