Le chat et la valise by Jane Tolbert

A cat in a suitcase seems to mean, “Take me with you.”
But given the choice of traveling in a carrier or staying chez soi, the cats prefer to be at home.

Cats are pretty much laid back about many things except for suitcases. Suitcases mean change, and for homebodies (les casaniers) like cats, change is not good.
They already know you have planned a trip from the printed email itinerary and passport now on your kitchen counter, or they sense your level of stress when your American Express bill arrives.

As the day of departure approaches, they sniff the growing contents of suitcases that lay open on the floor. If the suitcase (helas, only one checked bag is allowed these days) remains open, they adopt a comfortable outpost.

Of course, having a cat in the suitcase means you do not pack items that would cause discomfort to your pet (Il ne pas déranger le chat, n’est-ce pas?) or delicate articles of clothing that could be damaged by tiny, kneading claws. So stilettos and silk scarves remain outside the suitcase until the cat emerges.

The night before one of my daughter’s transatlantic flights, she closed all windows to ensure she could find the cat the next day. Unknown to the cat—so we thought--it too had a round-trip ticket. Obviously, the cat had seen the pet carrier and drawn its own conclusions. On the day of departure, the cat had climbed high into an olive tree and seemed to enjoy watching the panic below . This was one of the few times an airline strike and delays have worked in our favor.



Daughter and cat arrived at destination, but not without some adventures to recount. One security checkpoint insisted the cat go through the scanner in its carrier. The screener said, “I didn’t know cats had bones in their tails.”

This year during my visit to France, my daughter’s cat ignored me until I brought out the suitcase to pack for my return to the States. Just like the other household cats, she too perched on my clothes (the favorites were the black suit that seemed to attract cat hair) and determined what I did pack—the leather purse was o.k. but not the pointy shoes –and what got left behind.

Did that look mean, “Take me with you.”

My daughter replied she didn’t think so. The cat just wanted to ensure I left. And given the cat hairs on the black suit, I would certainly have something to remember her by.