I regret to announce that Lister, the best van cat in the entire world, crossed the Rainbow Bridge on July 16. I apologize for the delay in announcing this. It was sudden, without any warning, and came as an immense shock that my buddy, who accompanied me not only through my entire van life journey, but also through several difficult years of my life before that, is gone. Aside from a social media post or two, this is the first time I’ve felt ready to write about it.
Lister had been slowing down a little in his old age. At 12 years old, he was no spring chicken. But he was still his normal self, and even able to jump over the baby gate we had blocking the other cats and dogs out of the bedroom to sit on the bed and hang out with me while I work, including his last day. He was starting to lose a little weight and wasn’t eating as much as he used to. Then, on the 16th, his breathing became labored. We tried feeding him some of his favorite wet food, which he appreciated, but he couldn’t seem to swallow it because he was having so much trouble breathing.
We took him to the vet. He’d been lying down a lot that day, trying to get comfortable enough to breathe. But on that drive, he stuck his head up and looked around at where we were going. It was like we were traveling in the van again, except Melissa was driving her 4Runner and he was in a cat carrier on my lap. I opened the top so he could look around until he had to lie down again. At the time, I didn’t know that would be his last ride, but he seemed to enjoy it as much as he could in his condition.
Which turned out to be congestive heart failure. His chest was so full of fluid that they couldn’t even see his heart on the X-ray, which was also why he was having so much trouble breathing. We asked what our options were, and the vet sadly told me there was no coming back from this. They’d sent critters out for treatment before, but it had never been successful. Euthanasia was the only way to make sure he didn’t suffer. The vet said we were welcome to take him home for one last night, then bring him back the next day. I seriously considered it. This came completely out of nowhere, and I wasn’t at all ready to lose my buddy. But it was clear he was already struggling to breathe. There was a chance he could suffocate during that last night at home, which is a horrible way to go. As difficult as it was, I couldn’t let my buddy suffer. The vet put him to sleep while he sat in my lap, which was always his favorite place to be.
We had him cremated and brought him home a week later. I decided I wanted to pick him up and bring him home in the van that had been our home for a few years. I could’ve done it in the 4Runner or on a motorcycle, but the van felt right.
He fits quite well in one of the storage cubbies on top of the dashboard. In life, I sometimes had to fight to keep him off the dashboard while I was driving so I could see where I was going. Now he gets to ride up there. He still keeps me company while I work, sitting on the desk next to me.
One thing my friends and family keep assuring me is that I gave Lister a good life. How many cats get to travel as much as he did? And he was always so happy, just to be with me as well as exploring new places. Coming off the road and moving in with Melissa gave him a retirement home, with other cats and additional human friends. I’m sad that he won’t be living in the tiny house with us. I was looking forward to him living out his remaining years there. But I keep looking at the hundreds of pictures of our life together, and noticing how happy he was. He had a good run, got me through some of the most “interesting” times of my life, and delivered me to a new one. He may be gone, but I’m not alone.
Smokey Da Van 