A first-time sitter does not think in prescription language, and your cat's routine should not depend on anyone decoding it under pressure. The detailed version of this section translates the prescribed routine into the shape of an ordinary day, in the owner's own words, so the right thing happens at the right moment without arithmetic, guesswork, or a nervous phone call about something the page could have settled. Nothing here invents a schedule: every timing word on the page comes from the prescription the vet already set.
Anchor Each Dose to a Moment in the Day
Write each timing against an event the sitter will definitely live through. With breakfast is a timing a household can keep, because the food bowls come out whether or not anyone watches a clock. When you get home from work ties the next moment to the sitter's own arrival, which is far harder to miss than an abstract hour. Where the prescription demands an exact clock time, write that exact time plainly and say that this one is fixed; the contrast tells the sitter which timings flex with the day and which one does not. Keep the wording identical to how you would say it aloud across the kitchen, because plain words survive tiredness and distraction in a way formal phrasing does not.
Say What the Medication Is For, Plainly
Under the timings, add a single plain line stating what the medication is for, in the terms your vet used when it was prescribed. That one line does quiet, important work: it tells the sitter this is a considered, ongoing part of the cat's care rather than something optional, and it gives the sitter accurate words to repeat if a vet practice asks why the cat is receiving it. Keep the line short and factual, copied in spirit from the vet's own explanation, with no extra claims added by anyone along the way. Everything else about the medication — what it is, how much, and how the prescription is written — stays exactly as prescribed, and this section's job is only to make the timing unmistakable, never to restate or reinterpret the prescription itself.
If a Dose Is Spat Out or Missed
State the rule once, firmly, and let it cover every awkward case. If a dose is spat out, only partly taken, or missed altogether: write down what happened and phone the owner or the vet; never guess and never give a second dose to make up for one. A note with the time and a sentence about what occurred turns a mishap into useful information, while a doubled attempt turns it into a problem. Tell the sitter explicitly that reporting a missed dose earns thanks, not blame, because a sitter who fears a telling-off may stay silent, and silence is the one outcome the cat cannot afford. This rule belongs in the section itself, in the Pet Passport on KinsLe, not in a separate message thread the sitter would have to search for mid-worry.
Put the Page Where It Cannot Be Missed
Detail fails if nobody finds it, so the section's placement is part of its content. Keep this page at the front of the written instructions, ahead of feeding, litter, and play notes, because its timings shape the sitter's whole day. Tell the sitter during the handover walk-through that this page comes first, and show them where it lives rather than mentioning it in passing. A page weighted down beside the food bowls, or clipped to the front of the packet, gets read at the moment it matters; a page buried behind the plant-watering notes gets found on the last evening. The written section should also say where the medication itself is stored, in its original labeled packaging, so page and contents are never separated by a tidying impulse.
Give the packet a final check and leave the Pet Passport record on KinsLe open to the medication page, weighted down beside the food bowls where it cannot be overlooked.