Cha Yen and the Backpack: Learning to Carry a Cat Home to Family

I found Cha Yen behind a noodle shop in Korat when he was about the size of my palm. Orange like Thai iced tea, loud like a tiny engine, and already holding strong opinions. He is three now. He sleeps on the window ledge during the day, he wakes me at dawn with a paw on my cheek to demand breakfast, and when I visit my family, he travels in my backpack.

The backpack plan did not start well. The first time I tried it, two years ago, I just put him inside a small carrier and went to the bus station, and he screamed for ninety minutes. People turned around. An old lady offered me her prayer beads. I had made every mistake in the book: no practice, no familiar smell, no water, and a hot afternoon.

Our vet in Korat, a kind woman who has known Cha Yen since his first vaccine, gave me a very simple piece of advice. She said a cat has to learn that the carrier is a safe room, and that this takes a few weeks, not a few minutes. So I did it properly. For three weeks the cat backpack lay open on the living room floor with one of my T-shirts inside and a few treats. He started napping in it. Then I closed the zip for a minute, then five, then carried him around the flat, then to the corner of the soi and back.

The next trip, to my parents' house, was a different story. I booked an early morning minivan, a short ride of two hours and avoided the afternoon heat. The backpack was lined with a towel and a small pad, with a ventilated mesh window, and I kept a bottle of water and a little bowl at the bottom of my bag. Cha Yen looked out of the window of the bag with great seriousness, like a tiny, orange inspector, and he did not make a sound.

At my parents' place he explored every corner, ate three pieces of grilled fish from my mother and fell asleep on my father's best chair. They have asked me to bring him every time. I have learned that a calm cat is made, not found: with patience, familiar smells, short trips and a decent bag.

Last weekend we went again, and he walked into the backpack by himself. I nearly cried. Then he demanded a treat, and I remembered who I was dealing with.