How My Cat Lost Her Life During Vanlife

A Heartbreaking Goodbye: Losing My Cat During Vanlife and Cherishing the Memories We Shared

As most of you know, I started my van life journey with my beloved cat, Neo. Sadly, during this journey, she lost her life. I want to take you through what happened and share my feelings along the way.

The Spot

I was parked on a dirt road in Baleal, Portugal, where I stayed for about two weeks with two friends. The area was an open field where Neo loved to chase mice and run around freely. Since most van lifers have friendly dogs or keep them on a leash, we have never had any issues in this spot. Whenever I saw a dog I didn’t trust, I always made sure to ask the owner before letting Neo out.

About 50 meters away from the road was a house with a long driveway, fully fenced. In the past few days, I had heard barking coming from there, indicating the presence of dogs. During the 2-3 weeks I was in the area, I had seen these dogs escape twice before, running up and down the road. Nothing had happened those times—maybe Neo was inside or hiding well; I don’t quite remember.

The Morning Of The Attack

The night of March 19th brought a massive storm with strong winds. By morning, March 20th, the wind had finally calmed. Neo hesitated to go outside at first but eventually decided to. I was outside chatting with my friend, whose dog (a familiar playmate for Neo) was running around, trying to play with her. We were enjoying watching them play when my friend noticed two big black dogs in the distance and pointed them out to me. Since I had seen them before and nothing had happened, I wasn’t too worried. However, I decided to walk toward them just in case.

Unbeknownst to me, Neo had been hiding or hunting in the ditch to my left. The dogs were casually walking along that same ditch. The moment I saw them enter it, I knew—she was there. Everything happened in just seconds. I ran towards them as fast as I could, but by the time I reached the spot, the damage was done. I chased the dogs away and saw Neo lying in the ditch, covered in leaves and grass. One look at her, and I knew—it was bad. Really bad.

The Race To The Vet

The pain in her eyes was indescribable. I saw a bit of blood on her paw and tongue, and when I tried to pick her up, I noticed a wound in her belly, with some of her intestines exposed. That’s when I panicked. I started crying and screaming for my friends. I grabbed a blanket from my van, wrapped her in it, and put her inside. I was shaking with adrenaline, and sobbing uncontrollably. My friend was going to drive me to the vet, but her dog, sensing the distress, refused to get into her van. So my other friend jumped in instead, and I drove us there. She kept checking every minute to see if Neo was still breathing while I raced to the clinic.

Thankfully, I had been to this vet before with my friend’s dogs, so I knew exactly where to go. I rushed to the door with Neo in my arms—only to find it closed. I pounded on the door, screaming and crying. After what felt like an eternity, three veterinary nurses rushed to open it. They had been in the back and hadn’t heard me at first. I can’t even describe the feeling of standing helplessly outside a closed vet clinic with an injured pet in your arms.

The Vet’s Diagnosis

The nurses took Neo inside and told me to wait. After about five minutes, one of them came out and told me that apart from the wound in her belly, there didn’t seem to be much external damage. However, they needed to open her up to check internally. I explained to them that she was extremely anxious at the vet and could become aggressive. They had already noticed this, so they gave her time to calm down and stabilize. Unfortunately, due to the stress on her body, stabilizing her was difficult. Eventually, they intubated her and put her under anaesthesia.

They told me to go back to my van and that they would call me with any updates. Half an hour later, the vet called to say he was about to begin the surgery. He warned me that while she was stable, she was not in great condition, and anaesthesia always carries risks. He also couldn’t yet determine the extent of internal damage.

Another half hour later, he called again—with devastating news.

A Heartbreaking Decision

The dog had bitten her in the worst possible spot. The attack had ruptured her stomach and displaced her diaphragm, exposing her heart and lungs. The vet was surprised she had even made it to the clinic. There was also some damage to her liver. He planned to repair the diaphragm and remove some ribs. When he told me this, my heart dropped. She was such a small cat—how could she survive such an intense procedure? He assured me he was confident he could perform the surgery, but of course, there were no guarantees she would pull through.

The critical part would be the five days after surgery. Since her stomach had been exposed to open air, the risk of infection was extremely high. If she survived, she would need at least two more weeks of intensive care to heal. Neo was never good with vets. She had once been hospitalized for a urinary infection, and after just a day, they had called me to pick her up because she was so stressed that she refused to eat, drink, or even pee. When I arrived and she heard my voice, she immediately started eating and drinking. That’s when I realized just how much she needed me.

Hearing about those five critical days, I knew she wouldn’t make it. She wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of hospitalization, constant medical intervention, and being away from home. Even though every part of me wanted to fight for her, I knew it would be torture if she even survived the surgery. It was then that I made the heartbreaking decision to let her go.

I told the vet my decision, and he fully understood and supported it. When I arrived at the clinic, I asked him to explain her injuries again, just to be sure I was making the right choice. He did, and then he left me alone with her while he prepared the solution. I spoke to her, called her by all the little names I used to, and told her it wouldn’t hurt—that she would be at peace and happy. I told her how much I loved her, how sorry I was, and how much I wished I could have protected her. I just hoped she could feel my touch and hear my voice in those final moments.

One by one, the vet nurses passed by, gently patting me on the shoulder. Their kindness meant so much.

When I told the vet I was ready, we watched as her heartbeat slowed. I held her close, letting her feel warmth, love, and a heartbeat against hers until she was gone. Afterwards, they left me with her so I could say my final goodbye. I cried so hard. I gave her the head kisses she always loved, and when I was ready, I let go.

I took a small piece of her fur to keep and discussed with the vet what to do with her body. Burying her randomly in Portugal didn’t feel right, and private cremation was too expensive. In the end, I decided to have her cremated with other animals, so she wouldn’t be alone.

Speaking to the Dog Owner

Later that afternoon, I asked a Brazilian man who was parked nearby if he could come with me to speak to the owner of the dogs. Since the owner didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Portuguese, he translated for me. After some conversation, it became clear that the storm had broken the owner’s fence, allowing his dogs to escape. He was truly sorry—he had an indoor cat himself and loved animals. He gave me €100 towards the vet bill. Legally, he should have paid for all of it, but I was already grateful that he acknowledged what had happened and wanted to help. I could have screamed at him and gotten angry, but that wouldn’t bring Neo back. Of course, he never intended for this to happen, but it did. More than anything, I wanted him to be aware of the damage his dogs had caused.

Processing everything afterwards was the hardest part. I kept replaying the situation, wondering if I could have done something differently. Maybe I should have grabbed her the moment I saw the dogs. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen vanlife. Perhaps she wasn’t happy. But these are toxic thoughts. Thankfully, my friends reminded me that I had given her an incredible life and that this wasn’t my fault.

But the pain is overwhelming. I miss the soft patter of her little paws as she walked across me at night, the gentle licks on my face each morning when she was hungry. I miss glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing her peacefully asleep during drives. I miss our cuddle sessions, our beautiful little hikes, and the joy in her eyes as she rolled around in the sand—one of her favorite things.

Remembering Neo

Neo was my best friend and the first pet that was truly mine. I raised her from a tiny kitten, surrounded her with love, and shared countless adventures with her. I will forever treasure the time we had together.

When we welcome animals into our lives, we know that, more often than not, we will outlive them. Yet, no matter how much we prepare, nothing truly softens the pain of losing them. In the end, all we can do is hold on to the beautiful moments we shared—the love we gave them and the love they gave us—and let that be their lasting memory.

“Animals have come to mean so much in our lives. We live in a fragmented and disconnected culture. Politics are ugly, religion is struggling, technology is stressful, and the economy is unfortunate. What’s one thing that we have in our lives that we can depend on? A dog or a cat loving us unconditionally, every day, very faithfully.” – Jon Katz

In memory of my best friend.

21 November 2020 - 20 March 2025.