Walking A Cat

Have you ever tried to walk a cat? Yes, I mean on a leash. It is quite an experience, and every cat owner should attempt it. Training my tuxedo fur ball as a kitten would have been much more successful, but at age 3 it has been a great, amusing challenge.

Step One: The Harness

Putting a harness on a cat that refuses to even wear a collar is a true adventure. Sinatra, at 12 pounds, is very fond of his freedom, albeit very trusting. He crawled up on my lap after I had displayed the harness for him to sniff fastidiously. As soon as I squeezed the first opening over his big head, his pupils went from lazy-do-nothing to crazy-kill-something. He wriggled while I snapped it shut, and his eyes were wide and startled – but as soon as it was on, he froze. He looked up at me pitifully and mewed. Sinatra’s tail swished anxiously, but he didn’t move. I finally got up from the floor to do other things, but he just crouched there, paralyzed. He crawled on his belly to hide under the desk until he could figure out what was wrong. Finally, he took his first hobbling steps outside of his sanctuary. He pouted by begging to be held, and struggled to pull himself onto furniture instead of deploying his usual easy leaps. I checked to make sure the harness wasn’t too tight, but it was a good size for him. Sinatra just seemed to think that in this contraption, he was crippled.

Step Two: The Outdoors

Once he became somewhat familiar with wearing a harness (I kept him in it for at least 24 hours), I thought he’d be ready to go on a walk and finally chase the critters that kept him pawing at the windows. As an indoor-only cat, Sinatra has had very little outside experience. He ran away once and got stuck out in the rain before he came scurrying home, but he has never spent much time outdoors. Not knowing any better, I initially just put the leash on him, opened the door and expected he’d dart out just as if he didn’t have the leash. He slunk along on his belly after much tugging from my end of the leash – to the edge of the patio. No further. Sinatra crouched down, and refused to budge. I stood waiting while he ate some grass near the concrete. I tugged some more. After my tugging annoyed him enough…he plopped down on his side and stared at me. So I dragged him. I pulled enough to slide his silky body into the grass. He just stared at me as if to say, “You realize of course that I am not a dog.” He would not budge. He nibbled the grass beside him and observed the scenery, but he would not move.

Step Three: Walking the Cat

After a few failed attempts (just as above or my carrying him around the block in the vain attempt to get him accustomed to it), I set out again with harness and leash to take Sinatra to get the mail from the mailbox – just a little ways down the road. I tugged. I dragged. I finally carried him to the mailbox. After being set down in a very unfamiliar and unsettling place (beside the mail receptacle), Sinatra began trying to run – attempting to free himself from the harness and head back to safety, or at least cover. He flipped in the air – waist high – wriggling and squirming. I finally knelt beside him – his little heart beating and his eyes darting all around – and I ran my hand down his spine and just whispered to him encouragingly. He slunk toward me in the grass, and I stood, moving back toward home. He reluctantly moved a few feet and sat down again to nibble the grass. After a few firm tugs, he moved another couple of feet before laying down again. I dragged him a couple of inches and he got back up and moved just a little further. I bribed him by inching him from one patch of green grass to the other. He ended up walking all the way home without my having to carry him. Albeit, a distance of about 20 yards became a 15 minute walk.