If you know me, you know almost nothing is as precious to me as my cat. I adopted this semi-feral kitty when he was four months old and have had him for eight years. For half of those years, we have traveled full-time together across the U.S. and Mexico.
So, you can imagine my panic when I almost lost my travel buddy as we crossed the border last week.
Our travel day started like any other.
Rocky Point started getting unbearably hot, so I was looking forward to heading north for lower temperatures. But first, we had to make it out.
I waited until after dark the day before to hitch up the trailer. That way, I could be up and out before the sun came up in its full glory. I miraculously woke up at 6:30 AM and was out the gate by 8:00 AM.
I took a photo of my setup from the gate, closed it, and texted my friends to say I was on my way. Shadow was strapped into his carrier in the front seat with most of the air pointed in his direction. I don’t like the feeling of the AC being pointed directly at me, so he generally gets all of it except the one vent by the driver’s side door.
Little did I know, today, it would not be enough.
About half an hour from the border, Shadow started to wail. I didn’t think much of it at first. He has a habit of singing the songs of his ancestors when you take him away from his favorite spots, and he genuinely loved our home in Rocky Point. It’s one of the few campgrounds where he was allowed outside, and we had taken full advantage of it.
But he wouldn’t stop.
As we got closer to the border, I became a little worried. But now that I was inside Sonoyta, there wasn’t anywhere to pull over. I told myself I would check on him at the border. And if there was no line, I would pull over as soon as I crossed.
The border had a line.
Normally, I hate lines and hate waiting. But this one gave me time to put the FJ in park, unclip my seatbelt, and check on Shadow. To my absolute horror, he was panting like a dog, his tongue flapping helplessly out of his mouth. Drool drained profusely in long lines of slime from his mouth and had wet his tail and midsection.
I panicked, turned off the truck, hopped out, and rushed into the RV for a bowl to give him some of my water. He refused to drink it and instead turned it over on himself. He then became aggressive and tried to claw his way out of the carrier, thinking that was the source of his demise.
I had never seen him like this before.
It was my turn.
I looked up to see the lady handling my line waving me forward. I grabbed our passports and pulled up to her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I was checking on my cat.”
Thankfully, she didn’t bother searching my trailer and just waved me through after looking at my documents. As soon as I crossed to the US side, I pulled over on the shoulder and hopped out of the FJ again. This time, I got a towel from the RV.
I dried Shadow as well as I could, gave him more water, and turned the AC up higher. In a few minutes, he seemed to have cooled down and was calm.
We were finally on our way again.
Here’s what caused it.
You might wonder:
How on Earth did my cat get heatstroke while sitting next to me with the air on?
It took me a few minutes to figure it out while it was happening. Then I realized the sun had been on his side of the car the whole drive to the border. I took the towel I had used to dry him off to cover his carrier and dropped the front and side visors on the passenger side.
Throughout the rest of the eight-hour drive into the national forest, it only got hotter. The hottest temperature I saw on the FJ Cruiser’s outdoor thermometer was a whopping 118°F.
For some of the mountain roads, multiple signs warned me to turn the air off if I didn’t want my rig to overheat. I did as they suggested while keeping an eye on Shadow as best as I could.
He was fine by the time we got to camp.
When we arrived in the national forest, I immediately let him out of the carrier and into the RV. I turned the exhaust fan on inside and set up the swamp cooler.
But for all my continued panic, it was like nothing ever happened. He went to get food, helped himself to some ice-cold water, and then lay down on the dinette table to take stock of our new location.
In four years of being on the road, this has never happened before, and it definitely opened my eyes to the dreadful possibility. I shudder to think what might have happened if he had that heatstroke on a road with no pull-offs where I couldn’t stop to check on him.
I’ll definitely be covering the carrier as we continue our journey from Mexico to Georgia—now that I know the air and the outer shell of the carrier aren’t enough cover to protect my four-legged wombfruit from the sun.
Next week…
I did say in May that I had put Arizona in my rearview mirror. So, what am I doing back here, and where exactly am I? I’ll share that and more with paid subscribers next week!
Alexis, I'm glad your cat is alright. The temps aren't going to be any better on your way east. The whole east coast is under a heat advisory - almost 100 here today. Cats can only sweat through their pads, nose and ears - same pretty much as dogs, so they have to keep hydrated. I hope it doesn't happen again but you can always spray him with cool water - the evaporation will cool him.