Felix The Railway Cat

After that, they often referred to Felix as ‘the pest controller’.

But perhaps another nickname would have been more apt: The Destroyer. For although Felix had a scratching post, she preferred to rake her claws along the office chairs, or the fabric noticeboards, or her colleague’s clothes (and hands). She was growing larger and bolder by the day, and had now learned to combine two of her favourite games: the climbing-frame athletics extravaganza she’d perfected with Gareth, and the old-school trouser tango with which she’d used to terrorise her grandfather, Chris Briscoe.

A colleague would be walking along, minding their own business, when Felix would suddenly launch herself at them and run up their back. They’d feel the tell-tale twinge of cat claw, and then the full weight of the kitten as she anchored herself to their work trousers. Then she’d be up, up and away – dragging her claws through the fabric as she ascended their legs, moving on to the slippery smooth surface of a work shirt, giving a trampoline-like push up onto the shoulder, and then the pièce de resistance as she reached the summit: claiming the head. Her claws were such that it rather felt like being skewered with a flag reading ‘Felix’ when she reached the top.

She tried this trick with lots of people but, unsurprisingly, not many of the team enjoyed the sensation of a cat using them for mountaineering practice, so it was only a hardy few, like Gareth, whom she used consistently for her energetic climbs.

The team’s trousers were in a right state: full of tiny holes and pulls in them, from where she’d at least tried to run up their legs before being lifted off. It was clear to everyone that Felix was going a little stir crazy.

It was now the middle of August 2011. She’d just had her twelve-week birthday and her second – and final – inoculation jab. Her age was clear for all to see, for as the weeks had passed Felix’s eyes had taken on their adult pigment, changing from their kitten blue to a beautiful, shimmering green; just like her mother’s.

It’s always a tough thing for any parent to recognise, but Gareth Hope, on a late turn, realised that Felix was now ready to meet the outside world. Up until this point, excepting her trips to the vet, she had resided only in the office with the door always shut tight, preventing any escape. Felix knew that was the way the world worked: people came in and out, but the door was always closed to her.

That evening, as the summer twilight faded to dusk and the night set in, Gareth took a deep breath and lodged open the door.

‘Here you go,’ he said to his little friend. ‘You can have a look outside.’

Felix almost gave a double take – are you sure? – before she ran out, tripping over her toes on this great adventure. She ran bravely straight to the public doors, which were just beyond the office door and always open. Then she stopped dead, on the threshold to Platform 1, as though surprised to find that there wasn’t simply another office beyond, but instead a very big, and very wide, world. She almost skidded to a halt, as though her senses had been hit by a sledgehammer, and she could go no further until she’d digested all this newness.

It was quite late, so the station was quiet. But that was quiet in comparison to rush hour – and in the dark, especially to Felix’s little ears, the night sounds of the station seemed amplified a hundredfold.

There were no trains on the platforms. Instead, the melodies she could hear, and which mesmerised her, came from the swish of the public rubbish bags moving in the wind on their frames; from the syncopated rhythm of a woman’s high heels as she clicked her way along the concourse; from the constant buzz of electricity coming from the station lights or its signals, which were always switched on. Felix was very alert and seemed very on edge – but she wasn’t alone. Gareth loitered, just a few steps behind her, keeping an eye on his charge. She had grown so much, but she was still a kitten, and somehow looked suddenly smaller, standing on the threshold of this brave new world.