When I told people I was moving into my van with my two indoor cats Boudica and Pooka: “Dogs love their humans, cats love their home.”
What a misrepresentation that turned out to be.
Three years in, I can tell you my cats love ME. I’m their home. The van is just what carries us around. But I believed the warnings enough to be incredibly anxious about it, so if you’re sitting in your house right now, staring at your cat, wondering if you’re about to ruin her life, I get it. I was you. This is everything that led up to my cats becoming happy little adventure cats, including what went sideways along the way.
Do Cats Like Van Life?
Mine have been living it for three years, and the “cats are territorial” thing is oversold. Cats bond to their people, not just their floor plans. When we pulled into our first real campsite, an empty one in Missouri, Boudica stuck close to the van while Pooka went running around, wild and free. Then I wandered off toward a pond to give myself a minute, and when I looked back, both cats were following me down the path.
They’ve followed me ever since.
Your cat’s territory can become you. When I’m in my camp chair, Boudica climbs into my lap. When I walk, they walk. The van became their safe space almost instantly, and I became their safe space, period. They are so communicative about it, and it melts me every single time.
So yes, cats can handle van life. But there was a year of groundwork under that Missouri moment.
Start Leash Training Months Before the Van
Long before I moved into the van, I was putting Boudica and Pooka in harnesses and walking them around my yard for about an hour a day. They loved it. Boudica loved it so much she’d pick her harness up in her mouth like a little dog, carry it to the door, and meow at me until we went out.
That yard time is the foundation everything else sits on. My cats learned that outside is something we do together, and that lesson is why they stay close at campsites today, even off-leash. I wrote a whole post about how leash training keeps a cat from running away on the road, so I won’t repeat it all here. Start now, keep it fun, and never let your cat see you get frustrated, or she’ll decide the harness is the problem.
And if you love the outdoors, share that with your cat while you still have a yard to practice in. I didn’t make a good house cat either. Part of why this worked is that all three of us wanted the same life.
Let Them Explore the Parked Van (with Treats)
Before we moved in, I’d toss treats into the van so Pooka would slowly make her way inside and poke around while it was parked. No engine, no pressure, just snacks in a weird new room.
The experts back this up. International Cat Care recommends letting your cat get comfortable with the carrier or vehicle well before the journey, feeding treats inside it, and setting up familiar-smelling bedding so it feels like a pleasant place to be instead of a trap. That’s exactly what the treat game was doing, even though at the time I was just winging it.
So park the van, open the door, and let your cat treat it like a clubhouse for a few weeks. Cheap, easy, worth it.
Should You Do Practice Trips First? My Answer: Nah
I did the responsible thing. I took the cats on test runs to a friend’s house a couple of times before we launched. It backfired. They were scared, and the trips were too short for the fear to wear off. Pooka in particular came out of it afraid of the van. I felt terrible, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and meanwhile I was already selling my house. There was no plan B.
So we ripped the bandaid off. And a week or two into real, no-turning-back road life, they adjusted beautifully.
Looking back, a day trip or a weekend is all scary middle with no payoff. The cats never stuck around long enough to learn that the van always parks somewhere wonderful and life gets good. Full-time gave them enough time to learn the rhythm: drive, arrive, explore, dinner, bed. The routine is what they trust, and short trips don’t last long enough to build one.
I’m not going to tell you to skip test runs; every cat is different, and if yours takes to them, wonderful. But if your practice trips go badly, please don’t take it as proof your cat can’t do this. Mine failed the practice tests and passed the real thing with flying colors.
Motion Sickness, Distress Meows, and the First Rough Week
Week one was not cute.
Pooka puked in her carrier. Repeatedly. She earned herself the nickname “Puka,” which she is still paying off to this day. There were distress meows, especially on bumpy dirt roads. If I could hand my past self one tip, it’s this one from International Cat Care: withhold food for about four to five hours before you drive, while keeping water available. An empty-ish stomach means way less to clean up, and less misery for the puker in question. They also suggest pheromone sprays for the bedding, and talking to your vet if your cat is a genuinely anxious traveler, which is worth doing before you launch rather than from a gas station in Kansas.
And then, after a week or two of drives, it just… stopped. The puking, the crying, all of it. Driving became boring, which is exactly what you want driving to be.
Where Should Cats Ride in a Van?
They started in carriers, which is the by-the-book answer and the safest one. But it wasn’t long before I let mine out, and they chose their own assigned seats:
- Boudica rides in a little towel-bed I made for her under the driver’s seat. Sometimes she sits in my lap instead, very calmly, like a tiny co-pilot who contributes nothing.
- Pooka is the passenger princess. Passenger seat, upright, watching the world go by.
They settled into those spots years ago and they don’t jump around while I drive. A secured carrier is the officially correct answer, and a young bouncy cat absolutely needs one. Mine earned their freedom by being calm, older ladies who treat a moving van like a nap opportunity.
Don’t Get Hung Up on Getting a Kitten
Everybody pictures adventure cats as kittens raised on trails, so if you’re choosing a cat for road life, it feels natural to start with a baby. I’d suggest considering an older cat instead. Kittens come with their own cons; people just assume they’re the better pick because they’re young and moldable.
A kitten in 60 square feet:
- Chaos while you’re driving. Kittens ricochet. Mine don’t, because they’re grown.
- A mystery-box personality. You won’t know who you’re training until she’s already living in your van.
- Years of “everything is a toy,” including your cords, your blinds, and your one houseplant.
Boudica and Pooka started van life at 6 and 3, and they’re 9 and 6 now. Their maturity has been a gift. They keep their routines and their assigned spots, they nap through the long drives, and I knew exactly who they were before I ever turned the key. If you’re adopting a cat specifically for road life, the sweet older ones at the shelter are sitting right there.
What the First Weeks Look Like
Once we were really out there, the adjustment looked like this: the van became home base fast, the cats started following me around camp, and somewhere in those first weeks we invented the evening ritual that still runs our lives.
At empty campsites with little paths, I take them on a mini evening hike, maybe half a mile to a mile, and they just follow me there and back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then treats, then I tuck them in for the night. That ritual, plus the sunset dinner routine and a litter box setup that works in a vehicle, is the whole infrastructure of our life. Cats run on routine. Build them a good one and they will enforce it for you.
Oh, and if you’re launching in summer, read up on how to tell if your adventure cat is overheating before you go. That one’s not optional.
What If Your Cat Hates It?
If this is weekend camping and your cat hates it: let her stay home with a sitter. Don’t force it. A cat who gets punished with scary trips she never chose may never come around, and she doesn’t have to. Camping is your hobby, not hers.
If you’re going full-time: my chest still gets tight remembering this. When I was preparing to launch, people in my life suggested I rehome my cats, and I was genuinely torn. Now I look at Pooka trotting down a trail at golden hour and I’m so glad I gave it a real chance, because giving them up would have been far crueler than asking them to adapt. They didn’t need a house. They needed me, an open door, and a good dinner routine.
Give it a real chance. Not a nervous weekend; a real chance, with real time. My scared, puking, crying cats became the happiest little adventure cats I know, and they were never going to show me that in a day trip.
Preparing Your Cat for Van Life: Quick Checklist
- Leash train in the yard for months before launch. Fun, patient, frustration-free.
- Make the parked van a clubhouse. Treats inside, door open, no pressure.
- Skip the food four to five hours before driving, especially if you’ve got a puker. Water stays available.
- Start with carriers, familiar bedding inside; let calm cats earn their spots later.
- Expect a rough first week or two. Puking and crying are not a verdict, they’re an adjustment.
- Don’t get hung up on a kitten if you’re choosing your adventure companion from scratch; a mellow older cat has real advantages.
- Build rituals immediately. Evening walk, sunset dinner, tuck-in. Routine is what home means to a cat.
- Talk to your vet before launch if your cat is an anxious traveler.
The people who told me cats belong in houses meant well. But they’d never seen Boudica carry her own leash to the door, and they’d never had two little shadows follow them down a path to look at a pond. Your cat might surprise you too.
Sources
- International Cat Care: Travelling with your cat
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