Felix The Railway Cat

Pfft! Angie thought. You haven’t dealt with ours … She had visions of Felix throwing a diva strop in the middle of the parlour and quickly hurried out before she could change her mind.

An hour or so later, she returned to collect her girl. ‘Has she been all right?’ she asked nervously.

‘Oh, she’s been absolutely brilliant,’ they said.

Angie thought they meant the groomer who’d been attending to Felix. ‘No, no, I’m talking about Felix. Has Felix been all right?’

‘Oh yes!’ they said, laughing. ‘She’s been great. She sat and let us wet-wash her; she’s had the blower; she’s had the whole job lot. Here – see for yourself.’

And there was Felix, sitting on the table with her head up high, her fur going everywhere as though in a wind machine, looking for all the world like a movie star on a magazine shoot. She looked amazing. Her coat was clean and bushy and out to here, like a glorious Afro. Angie had never seen her look so glamorous and gorgeous. When she picked her up, a heavenly scent wafted towards her. Little Felix smelled divine. Angie couldn’t wait to get her back to the station to show her off.

There were a lot of oohs and ahhs as Felix trotted out onto Platform 1 with her new look. But the instant she hit the mucky concrete, she flopped to the ground and started rolling, rolling, rolling, wriggling her back and her oh-so-fluffy fur into the dirt, trying to get the nice clean smell off her!

‘Felix!’ Angie hollered. ‘Come back here! We’ve just had you cleaned!’

But Felix wouldn’t be told.

Felix wouldn’t be told, full stop, these days. As Christmas drew closer, the station team and customers had to contend with a classic Yorkshire winter: rain, rain, snow and more rain. Through the open roof of Huddersfield station, raindrops fell and landed on Felix’s fur as she huddled on Platform 1, that thick furry coat of hers – just as Joanne Briscoe had anticipated – keeping her snug as a bug in a rug. But wet as Felix’s fur got, her feet got wetter still. When the weather became too gruelling and the cat retreated to the cosy comfort of the lost-property office, she used to leap up onto Angela Dunn’s desk and walk all over it, leaving filthy pawprints on her paperwork. Angela had never seen such a mess!

‘Now, now, Felix,’ Angela would scold, ‘please wipe your feet before you come in.’

The station cat didn’t make herself popular with the team working on the concourse, either. They might just have finished mopping the floor for the hundredth time that day when in would walk Felix with her elegant strut, diamanté collar flashing at her throat, and she’d leave muddy brown pawprints all over the clean white tiles.

‘Felix, really?’ they’d cry after her in disbelief. ‘We’ve just cleaned that floor!’

But while Felix was merrily having a whale of a time misbehaving, her carefree antics were about to get her into some serious trouble on the railway.

One afternoon that December, Felix decided it was the perfect time for a spot of rabbit hunting. Off she trotted to the end of Platform 2, where she paused, sniffing the air. She stood quite still, waiting.

There they were. Out came the little brown-and-white bunnies, hopping about on the grass by the tracks, right by the yawning mouth of the train tunnel. Felix dropped close to the ground, every sinew in her body pulled taut as elastic, every sense on high alert. Slowly, slowly, she crept forward, and started edging down the ramp that led her straight to the rabbits’ playground.

The team, watching her from further up the platform, shook their heads. You haven’t got a cat in hell’s chance of catching those rabbits, Felix, they thought to themselves – but Felix wasn’t going to let that dissuade her. She was having fun! Down the slope she went, nose to the ground, bum wiggling in the air, stalking those wild rabbits as though her life depended on it. Closer and closer she got to them, down and down … until Felix the railway cat was stalking the rabbits right by the tracks. She was very, very close to going beyond the safety of the platform and clearly hadn’t a clue as to the danger she might put herself in.

Luckily, someone had been keeping as close an eye on Felix as she was on those bunnies: the driver of the train that was dawdling at Platform 1. Concerned, he called over the Huddersfield station train dispatcher and spoke to him from the door of his cab.

‘Look at that cat!’ He gestured at Felix, who was busy striking hunting poses on the very edge of the platform. ‘She’ll be in proper danger if she doesn’t watch out.’ He made a decision. ‘I’m not going to risk it. I refuse to move this train until that cat is safe!’