Locals fear for cat living in Toronto's soon-to-be demolished planetarium

There is rightfully a lot of excitement surrounding the redevelopment of the long-shuttered McLaughlin Planetarium in downtown Toronto, but some residents are drawing attention to one important feature of the building that stakeholders need to preserve before its fast-approaching demolition: a cat who has lived on the property for years.

Younger folks will never know the wonders of the '60s-designed observatory, which closed in 1995 due to funding issues and has been relegated to little more than a storage space ever since.

The University of Toronto, which purchased the site from the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) over 15 years ago, settled on plans for what would replace the enormous domed structure back in 2019, revealing stunning renderings of what will eventually be a new landmark for the institution.

The vision was substantially updated this June with an all-new, less-imposing blueprint in line with feedback from community consultations. The school also confirmed at the time that pre-construction prep work is set to start this month, with full demolition impending.

Given this short timeline, those few who are aware of the feline living under the defunct attraction — who has lovingly been granted the epithet Cheddar — are gravely concerned about his well-being.

One of these people is Andree Gagne, who has been regularly visiting 90 Queen's Park Crescent to feed and care for the kitty for more than five years.

One of Gagne's favourite pictures she's taken of Cheddar.

"I was walking by in March 2020 when I saw him hiding in there between all of this wood, and of course, he ran away," Gagne recalls, saying that she soonafter decided to take the feral cat on as a personal project, seeing that he was struggling to survive on his own amid what was, even then, somewhat of a construction site.

"I was thinking, 'Oh, poor cat. He's gonna die.' So I kept going back. I'm really devoted."

Gagne and others regularly check on the orange tabby, who they've heard has lived there for some 13 years, and who has thus far been too stubbornly wild to capture (yes, at least one local animal rescue organization has tried).

Even some of the security personnel who've monitored the grounds over the years have helped with Cheddar's care, feeding him some mornings and coordinating with community members like Gagne.

But with demolition on the horizon, the cat's keepers are wondering if the university or the developer has plans for what to do with him.

"I've left messages to say 'I would like to talk to you about the cat, can you call me?' Because I want to know if they're thinking about him. It's my fear that he's going to be buried alive in there," Gagne says.

Thankfully, U of T did tell blogTO that staff know of the cat, and are working on a care plan before works start. But it's unclear exactly what that will entail, especially since the critter has proven so difficult to wrangle.

"The contractor has been made aware of a cat on site and is preparing an animal care plan prior to the commencement of any activities," a spokesperson confirmed over email.

"The university takes all reasonable precautions to minimize construction-related impacts and disruptions, including securing sites prior to demolition."

And, in even better news for Cheddar, Gagne says one resident has volunteered to pay for whatever medical care he will need if and when he is rescued.

"It's just a matter of raising awareness and having someone actually catch him. We've tried to catch him, and it didn't work out for various reasons," she says.

We sadly could not find any evidence of the very shy Cheddar upon our visit to 90 Queen's Park Crescent this week. Photo by Becky Robertson.

Her attachment to the tomcat is evident, and is especially heartwarming given how his first impression was made.

"When I met him, I myself had just had a really bad fall and was coming back from the hospital pretty banged up. He had these huge stripes of fur missing on his back, but each time I saw him, he looked much better, which gave me faith for myself, too. I thought, 'Well, if he got better, that means I'm going to get better as well,'" Gagne explains.

"I get really upset because I just think he's such an incredible survivor, he's been living there for all those years and he's still beautiful. There are people who look out for him, but I'm still worried about what's going to happen to him."