the staff were well aware of his presence and were relaxed about him being there.
One day I gathered up the courage to raise the issue with a receptionist when I was making my next appointment. ‘Erm . . .’ I began, hesitatingly, ‘do you know there’s sometimes a cat in here?’
She smiled as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘Yes, yes, we do,’ she said. ‘Isn’t he lovely?’
I couldn’t argue with that. ‘Well, actually, I think he’s mine,’ I admitted.
‘Is he? Is Casper yours?’
We had a little chat and she told me that he was in quite often, that they had got his name from his disk and that, as long as he kept out of the doctors’ rooms, they were all generally happy to have him there. This astounded me – how kind and how eccentric at the same time. Only in Britain would a strange, wandering cat be seen as a normal addition to a healthcare practice. My heart lifted at the thought of how kind these people had been to Casper while I had been living in blissful ignorance.
The receptionist told me there were lots of patients who’d commented on how nice it was to see Casper; when they came in stressed or worried, he managed to distract them for a little while. The more I thought about it, the more I felt this was probably why he was so welcome.
I’d heard of programmes that took animals into hospitals to help long-term patients, as they can help lower blood pressure, reduce stress and release ‘happy hormones’. In fact, at the world-renowned Great Ormond Street Hospital, there is a pet therapy project that brings animals in on a regular basis. The hospital has visits from guinea pigs, kittens, dogs and even once a Shetland pony. The medical staff has found that young patients feel much more relaxed and comfortable, even in such a difficult environment, when furry friends are around. Across the country there are thousands of pet therapy dogs and cats who’ve done amazing work, and I felt, in his own small way, that Casper was achieving something similar. The irony was that while he may have been helping the blood pressure of other people, his escapades and travels were making mine worse!
What was amazing about Casper was that he expected to be allowed to go anywhere he wanted. He never seemed to show nervousness about walking into any place that took his fancy, despite many of them being less than cat friendly. I didn’t expect him to read the signs for the surgery or whatever, but surely most cats would have been put off by strange buildings full of people they didn’t know? Not Casper. Perhaps he saw the stickers saying that no dogs were allowed and took that to mean that cats were more than welcome.
Casper had a certainty about him that made people accept him. If he was sitting on a chair in a doctor’s waiting room, then perhaps that was where he was meant to be. It was as if he could persuade people to give him what he wanted just by being there. He was a calm cat who never bothered humans. He liked their company but waited for them to approach him a lot of the time. He wasn’t one of those cats who constantly pushed and rubbed for attention; maybe if he had been, he would have been less welcome. As it was, he followed people into their appointments and trotted about quite freely, but never in a way that suggested anything other than that he was a cat going about his business. He was becoming well known, and finding his feet (or paws) around town, but I had no idea just how popular he was.
CHAPTER 7
A Comfortable Life
I usually went into town to collect prescriptions from the doctor but, as I had to take quite a lot of time off work in preparation for my heart surgery, I needed to find somewhere closer to home. There was a pharmacy attached to the health centre so beloved by Casper. It was used by patients and general customers alike, and I decided to start going there for my medication. One day I popped in after I’d been to the GP. I hadn’t seen Casper