A few years back, my neighbor called to me from across the street. "Is that a cat on a leash?" It was. My cat, Tux, hopped to his feet and began to lead me across the yard as our neighbor doubled over, slapping the tops of his thighs, obviously delighted at the sight. "I've been telling my family there's a cat on a leash." He yelled as we wandered off: "None of them believe me."
I can't say I blame my neighbor for his reaction. I spent most of my life believing that some activities are reserved for dogs and others for cats. Playing fetch? Dog territory. Sitting in a cardboard box? Cats only. But as I learned with Tux, not every animal's path to a fulfilling life will neatly fit under the "cat thing" or "dog thing" category.
Everything I use to walk my cat
- An extra-long leash $7.99 at Amazon
- A snug harness $14.38 at Amazon
- Cat-safe sunscreen (for ears) $16.75 at Chewy
- Dog deterrent spray $10.95 at Amazon
Born to run (outside)
From the time I met Tux, I knew he would not be content as an indoor cat. He had lived his early life as a neighborhood stray, foraging through trash bins and hunting for his dinner. He had always been more dog than cat: spirited, fiercely protective and capable of exhausting himself outside so completely that he could sleep through a tornado siren.
I always assumed that eventually something dire would happen to him. Outdoor cats face constant threats, and I had lost count of the number of times I called for backup to locate him after dark, found him working his way off someone's roof, or saw him facing down the wrong side of a stinging insect. But day in and day out, he insisted on being let outside in meows so over the top that a musician friend once suggested he had the vocal range to sing, if only he really tried.
Like the rest of the world, Tux went into quarantine in 2020. His own lockdown was the end result of a scuffle with a feral tomcat, which left him with a puncture wound on his face and a positive diagnosis for FIV, a cat-specific immunodeficiency virus transmitted through deep bites by infected cats. "If he continues to go out," the vet warned me, "he will almost certainly infect other cats, and shorten his own life."
Tux's despondency was immediate. As soon as the wound on his face healed, he began howling to go outside again. His confusion was palpable, and so was my guilt. I found myself wondering: if he could talk, would he tell me he'd rather have just two more years outside instead of 15 stuck indoors? Toys were of little help. What's a single feather on a string to a cat who knows the thrill of the wild?
He began spending more of his time sleeping and demanding food to ease his boredom. Clawing at furniture and knocking things over became more frequent. I considered seeing if he'd take to a leash, but I was hesitant. What if a dog approached us and he wasn't able to run to safety? What if he managed to escape with the harness still on and got stuck on a fence? What if, like other cats I'd known, I put on the harness and he simply went catatonic? Then one afternoon, he launched himself through a window screen in a desperate attempt to get outside. That evening I clicked buy on the leash and harness that had been sitting in my Amazon cart.
Life on a leash
Our first attempt to prepare for the outdoors was rocky. Having recently worn a cone while his injury healed, Tux seemed to consider anything out of the ordinary a potential prelude to further confinement, or another trip to the vet. There was also the problem that, despite his lack of interest in any toys, he was keen to attack the leash.
After dodging a few of his warning swats, I finally managed to secure his harness, threw him over my shoulder and walked him around the yard. He perked up at the sound of the birds, took in a few deep sniffs as I held him up to trees and flowers, and meowed in protest when he realized we were heading back inside.
Soon his progress as a leashed cat picked up speed. Within a few days, he would run to the door at the sight of the leash, eagerly awaiting his venture outside. I may be the one who provides him food, shelter and foots the cost of his medical bills, but the leash is his best friend.
Walking Tux is certainly not the same experience as walking a dog. With a dog, you can exert some influence by tugging the leash to guide them in a specific direction. Tux charts our course, and the only way to change it is to pick him up and move him somewhere else.
On hotter days, he will walk for a minute and then quickly plop down, often in whichever part of the yard is most densely populated with mosquitos. It's akin to walking a potato. On cooler days, he's more of an alligator-goat-toddler hybrid: there is a lot of rolling around, attempts to climb everything, and a vocal (but manageable) tantrum when it's time to go inside.
Despite the chaos, I wouldn't trade our time outside for anything. There is a noticeable improvement in his mood when we go on our walks. He is calmer throughout the day and now actually engages with toys when he's indoors. Had he never been an outdoor cat, I might have assumed it was normal for him to fluctuate between bouts of misbehavior and lethargy, but now I frequently question how often an indoor cat's actions and mood are entirely dictated by a lack of fulfillment.
Cat behavior experts I interviewed concur. Laura Moss, the founder of the outdoor cat resource Adventure Cats, noted that indoor environments are too often designed to suit their owners, rather than the cats who share the same space. Shani Campbell, a certified feline training and behavior specialist, said the stereotype of the idle house cat is worth reconsidering. "I don't necessarily believe in 'lazy cats,'" she said. "It's not about getting them to move more, it's about giving them something worth moving for." Stephanie Merlin, a certified cat behavior specialist, points to the outdoors as a clear fix: "The world outside naturally offers a level of enrichment that's hard to fully replicate indoors."
I do wish Tux were still able to roam on his own terms, particularly when he thinks the two of us are going to crawl through a drainage ditch together or take down a deer. But he mostly seems settled into his new routine, and thankfully any stares from the neighbors have done little to damage his ego.
Five expert tips on how to try walking your own cat
Accept that it might not work for your cat
Leash walking is not for every cat. Tux took to it because he had spent years as an outdoor cat and was already familiar with the neighborhood, minimizing the risk of getting lost if he were to escape his harness. For us, the benefits outweighed the risks, but I would caution any cat owner trying out a leash to have a plan in place in case your cat makes a run for it. "Don't run after the cat. They will just run away faster, as they are likely very scared," said Dr Erin Burns, a veterinarian, who recommended keeping high-reward treats on hand and introducing leash and harness training in a confined space.
Get a snug harness and watch body language
A poorly fitted harness is a safety risk, as cats are excellent escape artists. Burns recommends a snug fit: tight enough that you can slide one finger (but not two) beneath the straps. Tux typically walks ahead of me, and I've learned to read one reliable warning sign: the moment he turns around to face me, an attempted jailbreak is on the way. I keep him on an extra-long leash for exactly this reason; it allows me enough slack to prevent an immediate escape and enough time to calm him down before he can bolt.
Choose your environment carefully
For cats experiencing the outdoors for the first time, the veterinarian Dr Wasi Ashraf recommends a backyard or a park free from loud noises, dogs and street traffic. While I have occasionally taken Tux on the street before 6am, we mainly stick to our front and backyard, though neither are foolproof. Delivery people show up or a neighborhood dog may get loose. When Tux and I are outside, I am his personal bodyguard, which means staying alert with no earbuds and no scrolling on my phone. As an added layer of security, I always keep a dog deterrent spray in my pocket and scoop Tux up as soon as I see anything I'm uncertain about.
Don't skip the safety basics
The cat experts I spoke to agreed that a breakaway collar is non-negotiable for any cat who goes outside. Campbell recommends one equipped with an AirTag holder to more easily locate a cat who may escape, and Burns advised maintaining a strict schedule of monthly flea, tick and heartworm preventative medications for all cats, especially those who go outdoors. I've recently started putting a small amount of pet-safe sunscreen on Tux after noticing what looked like sun damage on the exposed skin of his ears.
Let them lead
Cats may enjoy many of the same activities as dogs, but they won't always engage in them the same way a dog would. On the subject of leash walking, Merlin recommends gradual acclimation: "Some cats take to it more easily, while others need more time and support to build that confidence. It's really about meeting them where they are."
Tracy Allison is a photo editor for the Filter US. Other pieces you might enjoy from the Filter, the Guardian's guide to buying fewer, better things: My toy-destroying dog tested these eco-friendly toys. These eight survived. The seven best eco-friendly cat toys for owners who hate to waste.
