Gus

If you are lucky one day, you will walk through the big wooden doors of the front tower, past the porter's lodge, and cast your eyes upon the great green-striped expanse that is Selwyn Old Court. To your right will be the dining hall, and just beyond that the Master's Lodge. As you walk towards the steps to hall, a little friend will trot up to you just to make sure you are allowed to be in Selwyn in the first place.

His name is Gus, and he is the Selwyn College Cat.

He's very good about not going on the grass, which only fellows are allowed to step on. (Powerful Burning Lasers have been installed on the roof to discourage those persistent undergrads and grads). He's a rescued cat so he looks a little scruffy, but blends right in with the worn tweed elbows that dot the SCR. Gus has a tendency to join you wherever you are, in your room, in hall eating, wherever he might slip through the rungs. In fact, we recently received an actual email from him with a few requests:

Dear All.
In my role as College cat, I have a tendency to wander through any open door I can find, without thinking very hard as to whether I can get out again. I would be grateful if you could deny me entry on such occasions, as I cannot be responsible for my actions and I would not wish any student to be unfairly blamed for any mess in the halls or someone's room. Similarly, if you find me where I should not be, in Hall or the Buttery, for example, where I am told I am a grave threat to health and safety and possibly life and liberty, please have no compunction in subjecting me to either deportation or, in extremis, defenestration. I am also a little concerned about my weight, which may have something to do with the number of vulnerable mice in the vicinity of Old Court. Please do not feed me. Lastly, the Master has asked me to tell you that the matted hair down one side is not a sign of mistreatment in the Lodge but the result of much stress in a former life. It is being dealt with slowly, since my claws are rather sharp. Thank you.
Gus