Felix The Railway Cat

As the kitten dozed and Angie and Gareth fussed over him, they also assessed the larger surroundings of the announcer’s office. Given the small contingent of anti-cat folk on the team, neither Angie nor Gareth wanted to give a colleague any excuse to complain. So they covered the floor with newspaper – and just as well, for it turned out that the kitten was a rather messy eater and drinker. As he was not yet used to his new bowls at the station, both food and water would get everywhere when he dined. Just as his mother Lexi had taught him, however, he was very good about using the litter tray laid out for him, and very few ‘accidents’ occurred. Whether in the litter tray or elsewhere, the kitten’s mess was cleaned up instantly, to make sure it didn’t disturb anyone in the office who might have an axe to grind.

The kitten slept for most of Gareth’s shift that first day, but he was awake for a little bit, blinking those kitten-blue eyes at his new friend – and Gareth decided, looking at the way the creature’s eyes fixed firmly on him, that what the kitten really needed, in this new home of his that was in many ways so transient, with people coming and going on shifts all the time, was a permanent friend to call his own. Leaving Angie gazing adoringly at the kitten, he went to knock on the door of the lost-property office.

‘Hiya, Gareth,’ cried the woman in charge of it, cheerily. She was called Angela Dunn, a friendly lady with short blonde hair and shaded glasses, known for being both practical and kind-hearted.

Gareth subtly scanned the shelves behind her in the office. They were filled with a rather sad-looking collection of abandoned umbrellas and left-behind bags, forgotten coats and jumpers, and much more besides. The loneliest of all the items, though, were the lost-property toys.

They sat morosely on the shelves, their beaded eyes dull and blank, their once-much-loved woollen bodies misshapen and worn, never to be hugged again by their owners, many of whom were now grown up. There were bunnies and teddies and soft brown bears; dolls and ducks and dinosaurs. Angela kept them as long as she was able to, hoping to facilitate a reunion with a child and its favourite dropped toy, but more often than not the months and then years would pass by and, eventually, as the office grew too full, Angela would gather up the long-lost items with a sad sigh and they’d be redistributed to charity – where, she hoped, they would find another loving home.

‘I was wondering,’ said Gareth, looking hopefully at Angela, ‘is there a cuddly toy we could give to the cat?’

Angela smiled affectionately at him. The lost-property lady was definitely a pro-cat enthusiast and she had already fallen for their little ball of fluff. ‘Let me see now,’ she mused aloud, ‘I’m sure there’s something we can do.’

From the rows of toys who had been abandoned longest, she and Gareth picked out a pale-brown cuddly bear. The kitten was so tiny that the bear was about the same size as him on that very first day, but they knew that as he grew older the pair would be well-matched. The bear was made of a fleecy material, a light, malleable creature who could sit upright and be safely chewed – and loved. Gareth thanked Angela for her help, then went to introduce the bear to his new best friend.

The kitten gazed quizzically at it for a second and gave it a good sniff all over and a little taste with his rough pink tongue. Then he curled up right next to it and fell asleep, his head tucked into the bear’s neck, looking as happy as Larry, and just as content as if he was snuggled next to Luther or Spadge or Max or Percy, the siblings with whom he had spent his first eight weeks.

‘There you go,’ said Gareth, tenderly. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’

It was some hours later, as acting station manager Andy Croughan was clocking on for the night shift, that the manager paused outside the door to the announcer’s office, little knowing what he would find inside. Andy had been off on holiday for a few days, so he was utterly confused by the sign the team had pinned on the door:

PLEASE BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU OPEN

THIS DOOR

What’s going on here? Andy thought in confusion. Why do I have to be careful?

And then, as he eased open the door, he saw exactly why. This being night-time, the nocturnal kitten appeared to have woken up – and was ready to party. As Andy eased the door open and looked ahead of him into the room, a tiny dark flash shot past him, chasing a ball of paper that Gareth had thrown. The kitten was darting around like a mad thing, tumbling over his legs and paws and even his own head, just as he had once done at the Briscoes’. He shot across the room, then hid under the table with a squeaky little miaow, observing the newcomer from his place of safety.

Oh my God! thought Andy. The cat! We’ve got the cat!