Cat camping

© 2012 Lydia Hinshaw

I don't like this tent at all . . .

but I can sleep anywhere

  FERNANDINA BEACH, FL -- Yes, we have taken leave of our senses.  Or rather, we've been driven by circumstances to do something crazy.
 Prince Charming and I just took a cat on a two-day camping trip.  Somehow, all three of us survived.
 Since our younger cat, the Princess, was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism last April, she’s required medication every 12 hours.  Over the summer, while we worked in Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, our house-sitter did a great job of getting the pills administered.
 Then last Oct. 2, Michelle the house-sitter departed on her honeymoon just a few hours before we arrived home.  Since then, we have not left home for more than 12 hours at a time.
 Normally we do a number of two or three day trips in winter.  Healthy cats are low-maintenance and can be left that long with extra food, water and litter.
 This winter, we’ve stayed home, which is one reason this blog has been thin for the past five months.
 A couple of weeks ago, we switched from pills to a transdermal cream that gets rubbed inside the Princess' ear. The new medication is much easier to administer.
 Spring break arrived, I had a few days off from my bus-driving job and we really wanted to get out of town.
 But what to do about the Princess?  Two visits per day is too much to ask of a cat-sitter, especially when the patient would be less cooperative with a stranger than she is with me.
 Boarding a pet is expensive, almost twice as much as the $13 per night we would be paying for our campsite at Fort Clinch State Park here.  I’ve never boarded a cat, fearing the revenge that would be exacted when said cat came home.
 The campground allows pets, so we decided to take the Princess with us.  Her older sister, the Queen, a year older but much more active, could stay home and run the house.
 In a thrift shop, we found a nylon pet tent, about three times the size of the cat carrier we use for transportation to the vet and back.  We arranged a small sandbox and food and water dishes. 
 Early Sunday morning, we were off.
 The Princess did quite well, although she surely wasn’t happy about the whole thing at first.  The trip was 120 miles or so, and on the way up, we stopped three times to let her out of her tent and give her access to food, water and litter, none of which interested her in the slightest.
 Once we got to the campground, she discovered she could do her favorite thing, sleep, about as well in a van as in a house.
 She took particular comfort in creeping under the lower berth and snoozing amid our luggage.  At home, she often hides under the bed in stressful situations, like thunderstorms.
  The experience was confining for us, though not as much as being stuck at home.  We could only park in very shady spots, and had to carefully calculate how long the tree or building would remain between the sun and the van.  We were too worried to stay away from the vehicle long, and skipped the meals out we usually enjoy in favor of campground cooking.
 At our campsite, there was no shade but the sea breeze kept things cool.  We left the van's doors and windows open, and one of us always stayed right nearby, lest the Princess be overcome by an attack of curiosity (or her desire to get away from  crazy people), and try to leave the vehicle.
 She got her medication right on time.  And night, she slept where she always does, in the crook of Prince Charming's arm.
 Coming home Tuesday, the Princess was really fed up with the tent, and she told us so with much crying and pounding against the sides.  Half an hour down the road, we let her out of it, and she retreated under the lower berth. We didn't see her again until we were in our driveway.
 It's not something we will do often, but at least we know that it can be done.