After weeks of the place being crammed to the rafters with rejected delicacies, we've run out of catfood.
Mr C feels a bit more solid and less like a well used teddy nightdress case. Is only 4.5 kg.
I wince at how pitifully emaciated he has become. I can feel a ribcage!!!!
Although he would rehome me for saying it, he could use the odd few grams staying off because of his arthritis.