Fun fact: Cats aren’t native to the United States. It’s believed that they came to the U.S. in ships hundreds of years ago along with the Europeans who were immigrating.
One spring day, I was cleaning out the garage when I came across my son’s old pull-behind bike cart. My heart sank as I glanced over at my five-year-old, who was just on the cusp of outgrowing it. Technically, he could still fit in it, but he was a “big boy” now and much preferred pedaling alongside the family rather than rolling behind as a passenger.
Though it tugged on my mommy heartstrings to part with baby gear and the history that went with it, I told my husband, “Put it in the Goodwill pile… unless,” I added with a chuckle, “Barney wants to take a ride in it.”
My sons’ ears perked up at my silly comment. Barney was our fourteen-pound, long-haired orange Tabby, who had a taste for adventure. Every other kitty I’d ever owned was not what you’d call a thrill seeker. They ran for cover whenever I hauled out the dreaded pet taxi because they knew what that meant — vet or vacation — and they detested both. Not Barney. He was up for going anywhere and doing anything. In fact, I would sometimes find him perched on top of our pink pet carrier, almost as if he were asking us to take him somewhere. And any time we dragged out suitcases, Barney would either crawl inside the luggage or stretch his body on top of it to send a clear message: “Take me or I’ll apply fur to all your outfits, man.”
He was a “go kitty” so the boys were convinced he’d like to go biking.
“I’ll go get him!” my older son Kyler shrieked.
“I’ll help!” my younger son Trevyn said.
“Now, hold on just a second,” I said, thinking this through. “A car ride is one thing. He’s enclosed and not exposed to loud noises. But biking’s a different story.”
With so many sounds, smells, and sights to take in, I wondered if he’d feel overwhelmed.
“No, Mom, I promise he’ll like this,” Kyler said. “Trust me.”
The boys ran off and returned to the garage moments later with Barney draped over Kyler’s arm. Trevyn unzipped the carrier, and Kyler placed Barney inside. He circled twice the way cats do, then tucked his paws beneath his body. I had to admit, he looked right at home. It was as if this bike carrier was his own personal feline lounge chair.
Trevyn fastened his helmet, climbed on the bicycle, and started pedaling Barney down the road.
I watched from behind and noticed the huge sag on the bottom of the carrier where Barney was lying. Since he had positioned himself on the floor rather than on the seat, there was nothing to support his weight. Given that the material was thin and translucent, sort of like parachute cloth, Barney’s bulging body hovered just millimeters from the asphalt.
“Hold up a sec,” I hollered to Trevyn. My husband grabbed a board and placed it on the floor of the carrier, providing Barney with a much more comfortable ride.
I got on my bike and rode up alongside Barney to peek inside. I couldn’t get over the Zen vibe he was emitting. His eyes half-closed, his head steady, the breeze gently tickling his white whiskers — it was as if he was enjoying a day at the spa.
A few months later, our family headed to our lake cabin in northern Michigan. Of course, Barney joined us. Not surprisingly, the kids decided that their fearless feline was ready for his next outdoor adventure: boating!
I wasn’t so sure Barney would be up for this one. The roar of the boat’s motor, not to mention other lake noise such as splashing kids, revving jet skis, and quacking ducks, might just be enough to send him over the edge.
“We can try it,” I agreed. “But he has to stay in his pet taxi.”
Barney’s green eyes were bright and wide as he took in the sounds of the seagulls cawing overhead and the waves lapping the shoreline. He quickly turned his head when a neighbor revved his lawnmower. His little pink freckled nostrils went into overdrive when he caught a whiff of campfire smoke.
After situating Barney in his carrier, we flipped on the blower and lowered the boat into the water. Barney’s ears momentarily flattened when we started the engine, but the second we backed off the hoist and began bobbing fluidly on the water, he relaxed.
We slowly toured the cove as the boys kept a close eye on their purring passenger. “What do you think, Barns?” they asked.
He offered up two sniffs, a yawn, and a gentle meow before dozing off.
“He likes it!” Trevyn announced.
“Well, of course,” Kyler said with a gleam in his eye. “He loves exploring.”
I had a hunch that a new question was forming.
“Mom, do we still have that baby backpack we used to carry Trevyn in?” Kyler asked. “Because I have an idea for tomorrow.”
~Christy Heitger-Ewing
