Always difficult explaining to a cat that now they are getting older there might be a few medical and dietary troubles ahead. In fact both our cats, whilst passing their MOTs reasonably well do still have a number of advisories that require ongoing treatment. Morning and evening routines now involve dolling our drugs of various kinds, steroids and special food pellets; the cats requirements are even worse.
Ailments include arthritis, digestive issues, possible cancer, thyroid trouble, heart murmurs, dental decay and all the awkward symptoms and manifestations that go with these. This generates ongoing dramas whereby top and bottom end events are regularly monitored and managed, food is rationed and carefully prepared and often rejected and middle of the night unplanned events are common.
Back in the day the cats lived a "wild woodland" kind of existence and we hardly saw them some days, just the bloody and broken evidence of their regular murdering sprees. Now, and through a perpetual lockdown, we're all like fellow travelers in some cat/human space ship mash up, heading to colonize a planet troubled by belligerent mice and cute but dangerous spiders made of soot.
Packed into our tiny crew quarters we've never quite managed to provide a clear brief to the cats that this is in fact a space craft and that different rules must apply if we want to succeed i.e. the sardine paste is definitely not for sharing nor are the sleeping spaces. In the end the mission, like all missions, is just about survival, anything else being a bonus ... so on we travel.