How easy is it to caravan with a cat?

Our first cat was a petite female; very young (how young, we could only guess, as she was a rescue cat) and melded into our hectic household quickly. Not long after her arrival, a caravan holiday occurred. Enter a programme of practicality organisation. The shower is the ideal place for a litter tray, we immediately discovered, and every caravan we’ve purchased since then, we’ve made sure the position of the shower was ideal for that purpose. There has to be a space for the cat food and water dishes, too – out of the way of feet, and in a place that’s relatively secluded for the cat.

Fast-forward quite a few years, caravans and cats, and we now have Maximus, a chocolate-point Burmese with a big, very alpha personality. It’s clear that he loves caravanning. In the caravan, he’s always close to us; living in what amounts to one room rather than a whole house, seems to be his ideal.

We have a Bailey Pegasus Grande SE Bologna, with a rear shower room. There’s a space alongside the loo that is the perfect size for the plastic box in which we keep the cat litter, in close proximity to the litter tray in the shower. When we use the shower, we pop the little tray on top of the toilet. Only once has Max tried to get in it while there, sending cat litter (fortunately fresh!) cascading all over the carpet and onwards, into the bedroom. Having a vacuum is essential in a catavan, not just for Max misdemeanours of this sort, but to take up any cat litter that little paws may cause to stray from the litter tray. So the space at the other side of the loo is taken up by a small upright vacuum. And, yes, we measured both in the course of deciding on this caravan.

Max’s food and water bowls go conveniently in front of the oven. The caravan’s eight-foot width means that there is plenty of floor space in this key central area. And his scratching post sits by the bed; not ideal, but it is an essential piece of kit. Max doesn’t scratch sofas at home – but, bizarrely, this caravan’s sofas seem to be a magnet for claws. So we had to buy (plush grey, the same colour as the seating) throws to cover the seating. 

Being a lively cat (he’s four now, and still behaves like a kitten), he needs plenty of toys. The cabinet aft of the kitchen into which the free-standing table stows has a space alongside the table that is perfect for a bag containing Max’s toys. And, just like a four-year-old child, trying to draw attention to himself, when we have visitors, he paws the cupboard asking for us to open it, and delves inside to bring out toys to show to our guests – whether or not they are interested. Battery-powered spheres with flashing lights and a tail attached; little plastic springs, colourful miniature ‘mice’ and all manner of fluffy balls are soon scattered around the caravan, the cat giving chase and picking up the toys in his mouth to bring to our guests; very dog-like behaviour. Is he a dog substitute, you may be wondering? After all, dogs were our first choice in terms of pets, partly, I think, because I’d been brought up with dogs. No, Max is no substitute for anything. He’s almost seven kilos of strong-minded feline who vastly enriches our lives both at home and on holiday. 

Talking of strong, he’s also physically a feline powerhouse. His mode of car transport is a large cat box; the sort that sits on a back seat and is secured by a safety belt looped through the handle. Usually, Max settles quickly and stays that way, even on long journeys. But last summer, in super-hot weather when all of the car windows were open as we sped along little lanes, he decided to go exploring. He kicked his back legs out with so much force that the securing points for the front door of the travel box became dislodged – and, in one quick, deft movement, he got out and sat serenely on top of the box, his fur and whiskers wafting in the breeze from the open windows. A very quiet meow attracted my attention and I grabbed him and stuffed him back inside the box before he could even think of moving towards a window. It was a hot moment – and one that illustrated the importance of using a harness and lead whenever he travels. We’d always done this, as a matter of routine – but had never anticipated that it would be a lifeline in my swift rescue operation; something to get hold of to aid my attempt to grasp the cat.