Who knew that a small ball of fur could have such a profound impact on my choice of RV floor plan? Seriously, I rejected model after model because the litter box logistics required an engineering degree—one I do not have, nor aspire to earn. Enter Luna, my fearless feline copilot. She’s small, sassy, and somehow turned my RV adventures into a high-stakes reality show featuring one dramatic star—her. I have a confession to make: I’m that person. The one with an entire photo album on her phone labeled “Kitty Cat Cuteness.” It started innocently enough when she was a kitten, but now it’s a whole cat-shrine, because you just never know when the world will demand photographic proof of your cat’s unparalleled cuteness. Spoiler alert: the world has never demanded this. But am I ready if it does? You bet your whiskers I am. Meanwhile, my RV photo organization? Hoo boy. What RV photo organization? If you happened to read my post on Spring Travels: Part 1 (you didn’t, but let’s pretend), you’d know I’m chronically photo-challenged when it comes to my adventures. Finding a decent shot of my rig or a stunning vista? That’s a solid 15-minute scroll through random pictures. But my cat? Oh no, I’ve got categories for her: Collages, RV life, Mom and Dad’s house, Luna and Orville FFL (Frenemies for Life). You name it, there’s an album for it. And this, my friends, is why I’m a card-carrying, lifetime member of the Crazy Cat Lady Club. Membership dues? Paid in fur. Any Advise to Share? Let’s get one thing straight: I am not, nor will I ever claim to be, a Cat Whisperer. While I grew up with cats, I mostly spectated from the sidelines while my mom handled the hard stuff—litter box duty, vet visits, and the occasional battle of wills to get a cat to swallow a pill. Luna is my first cat as an adult, and I’ve been learning everything the hard way. Consider this your disclaimer: Nothing I share here qualifies as advice. These are simply my misadventures, shared for your entertainment. I have met a good number of cats now who enjoy an RV lifestyle. Some do it part-time and are snowbirds, enjoying warmer weather for certain months, then returning to their brick-and-mortar homes. Others live it full-time and know nothing else. Some are indoor RV lifestylists. Others, like my cat, are outdoor fiends. If I could redo one thing, it would be giving Luna more time to adjust to the RV before we hit the road. Instead, I threw us both into the deep end. Three days after I got the keys, we set out on an epic (read: catastrophic) maiden voyage to Florida. That trip was absolute chaos for so many reasons, not the least of which was Luna crawling into the exposed area under the dash. At one point, I genuinely started to worry about how I’d deal with the smell of a decaying cat I couldn’t reach. But, I digress. If you happened to read my post on Spring Travels: Part 1 (you didn’t, but let’s pretend), you’d know I’m chronically photo-challenged when it comes to my adventures. Finding a decent shot of my rig or a stunning vista? That’s a solid 15-minute scroll through random pictures. But my cat? Oh no, I’ve got categories for her: Collages, RV life, Mom and Dad’s house, Luna and Orville FFL (Frenemies for Life). You name it, there’s an album for it. And this, my friends, is why I’m a card-carrying, lifetime member of the Crazy Cat Lady Club. Membership dues? Paid in fur. One of things I did right, IMHO, was to install a cat pheromone diffuser inside the RV. I sincerely think it helped Luna. Once I wrangled her onboard, she showed a level of comfort she hadn’t previously displayed when entering a new place for the first time. I truly believe the product created a sense of welcome and made a noticeable difference in her comfort level. We’re over a year in now, and thankfully, Luna has adapted beautifully. This kitty was made for RV life. Another trick to help her feel at home? I brought her two beloved cat trees: one that is compact and great for an RV (and sadly, I’m not seeing it for sale any more!) and the other—her absolute favorite—the Mau is slightly larger but too adorable and expensive to leave behind. Plus, it doubles as her launch pad to the loft over the cab, so… totally worth it. An unforeseen boon to packing my RV full of cat stuff? I’ve discovered her GoCat DaBird toy has unexpectedly helped me forge peace treaties with campground cats! Luna’s pheromones (despite being spayed) seem to attract a parade of suitors. The GoCat DaBird serves as an excellent distraction. Like toddlers, a good play session usually does the trick to tire out visitors until they’re ready to move on to a warm sunny spot for a nap. Nevertheless, occasionally, I need to use a little hose power to discourage aggressive behavior. The Eternal Question: Where Do You Put the Litter Box? The RV-litter box conundrum. For me, the answer was hiding in plain sight—or rather, under one of the booth dinette seats. This little nook turned out to be the purrfect spot for Luna’s litter box: discreet, convenient, and easy for me to access for cleaning. I purchased a cat door off Amazon, whipped out my dad’s hand saw, and cut a cat-sized hole in the base of the booth dinette. Bonus: the large litter boxes I already owned fit like a glove! My go-to litter is Pretty Litter, which earns my seal of approval for several RV-friendly reasons: Scooping Efficiency: I aim to scoop twice a week (key word: aim), but life happens. Once a week is usually the routine. Thanks to Pretty Litter’s drying powers, it’s just dried-up turds waiting for me—hardly a horror show. Dust-Free Delight: No mini dust storms
