What I learned taking my senior cat camping for the first time
By Wren · August 25, 2026
Who was Bastet? The short version, for anyone who wants it.
Bastet was the Egyptian goddess of home, protection, and cats. She was worshipped for thousands of years. She was fierce, dignified, and not known for tolerating nonsense from lesser creatures.
Rufus had the same energy.
I had already done one solo camping trip by the time I booked the second one. I knew what I was doing. I had a system.
What I didn’t have was anyone to leave Rufus with.
Rufus was a senior ginger cat who had chosen me some years earlier by showing up and declining to leave. He had opinions. He had routines. He had a way of sitting in a doorway that communicated, without ambiguity, that the doorway was his and I was passing through it on his terms.
He also, it turned out, had a camping trip ahead of him.
The Preparation
I want to be clear that I did not take this lightly.
I had been taking Rufus for backpack walks around the neighbourhood to get him used to new places. He was a former stray and knew the local streets reasonably well, which helped. I tried multiple harnesses before finding one he couldn’t simply squeeze out of — a longer project than it sounds. He was fine with wearing it. He was fine with the leash. The leash and harness existed, functionally, to stop him disappearing rather than to direct him anywhere. He picked the speed, the direction, and all the sniff breaks. I was the support crew.
For the campsite: a gazebo with an enclosure room attached, a four person tent so he’d have space if he needed it and so the litter tray wasn’t directly next to my sleeping area, a cable run clipped to his harness for any outdoor time. I had researched which campgrounds allowed cats. I had more kit for him than for myself.
I was prepared.
The Arrival
He tried to hide under the tent while I was still setting it up.
This was logistically awkward.
Once I got him inside and the tent was assembled, he relocated under the camp bed. He stayed there for most of the afternoon, which I respected. Senior cats who have had hard lives before they find you are allowed to take their time.
By evening, something shifted. He moved to the mesh door of the tent and sat there, looking out, sniffing the air coming through. Not happy exactly. But present. Processing.
The Litter Situation
Rufus had strong feelings about kitty litter. At the vet he had once held on for twenty four hours rather than use one. This was not going to improve in a tent.
So I got the head torch, got him harnessed up, and we went for a walk in the dark.
I had already done reconnaissance — walked the campsite, noted which neighbouring guests had dogs, asked everyone to give my tent a wide berth. They were all extremely understanding about it. Nobody questioned the cat camping situation out loud, which I appreciated.
It was cold and dark and Rufus and I ended up down by the creek. He sniffed. He explored. He found things of interest. We were out there for a good forty five minutes before I was too cold to continue and advised him the walk was over.
He went to the toilet. I was relieved about this in a way that is difficult to convey.
The Security Arrangement
Back in the tent, Rufus had dinner. I got into bed and tried to warm up.
He took the first security watch. By morning he was under the bed again and I was on watch for him.
This felt like a fair arrangement.
The same pattern held the second night. I never went far during the day, wanting him to feel safe knowing I was nearby. The bathroom runs were the challenge. On one return I found him in the tent giving a large ibis the full stink eye through the mesh. He didn’t do anything. He just watched it with complete contempt until I came back and scared it off.
He handled it with dignity. As he handled most things.
The End of the Trip
I have never seen Rufus get into a car that fast.
He was done. He had tolerated the whole thing because I was there and he trusted me, but he was very clear about where he stood on camping as an activity. I think if he’d been younger he might have adjusted. But he was a senior cat with a complicated history and a strong preference for his own doorways, and he had done enough.
I was so proud of him.
Camping went on hold after that. Not forever — but for a while. Some experiences are worth having exactly once, and then filing under tried it, glad I did, won’t repeat.
Bastet would have approved of the ibis management, at least.