Eating, drinking and the shape of his body
Appetite is the first dial most owners notice and the one worth trusting. An ageing cat who leaves food he used to finish, who eats eagerly but keeps losing weight, or who starts drinking noticeably more and flooding the litter tray is showing you a change that matters. Weigh him monthly if you can — pick him up on the bathroom scales, then put him down and subtract — because slow weight loss hides under a familiar coat. Food is also a pleasure, not just a fuel: a cat who still comes to the kitchen with anticipation and eats with enjoyment is telling you something good about his days, and a cat who has gone indifferent to favourite foods is telling you something important the other way.
A shrinking map: movement and jumping
Watch where he goes, because his world quietly contracts when joints start to hurt. The cat who always slept on top of the wardrobe takes the armchair instead, then the cushion on the floor. He hesitates before jumping, scrambles where he used to float, or stops going upstairs altogether. None of this is laziness; it is arithmetic done by sore joints. You can answer it kindly — a step or sturdy box as an intermediate landing, a low-sided litter tray, food and water on the floor level he actually uses — and the ease with which he accepts those changes tells you how much he needed them. A cat who reclaims his favourite spots with a step in place is a cat whose quality of life you have genuinely improved.
Coat, grooming and litter-tray clues
An old cat's coat reports on how he feels. A once-fastidious cat who becomes unkempt along his back and hindquarters is often a cat who finds the twisting painful, and mats forming in those areas mean grooming has quietly stopped there. Equally telling are the tray habits: missing the tray he has used for years, going more often, straining, or choosing soft laundry instead — each is information, none of it is spite. Matted coat, soiling and odour changes are undignified for a cat, and they bother him even when he cannot say so; keeping on top of gentle grooming for him, and mentioning tray changes to the vet, protects both his comfort and his pride.
Sleep, company and the quiet changes
Old cats sleep more, and that alone is not a warning. The quality-of-life questions are about what fills the waking hours. Does he still seek out his people and his sunny spot? Does he still take an interest — a bird through the window, a string trailed past, the sound of his name? Restlessness at night, yowling in empty rooms, or staring spells can signal pain, confusion or failing senses, and are worth describing carefully to the vet. At the other end, a cat who withdraws entirely — under the bed, away from hands he used to lean into — is communicating the clearest message he has.
Keep a fortnight of notes, not a feeling
Memory is a poor instrument here, because decline is gradual and love adjusts to it. Instead, keep a simple record for two weeks at a time: appetite, mobility, grooming, company, and a plain good day or bad day mark. Patterns you would swear were not there become undeniable on paper — the jumps he no longer attempts, the meals left, the good days still comfortably outnumbering the bad, or no longer doing so. That record is also the kindest gift you can hand your vet, whose twice-yearly senior checks only ever show a snapshot.
Bring the pattern, not a single bad day, to the vet — and bring it early, because much of what dims an old cat's life, from joint pain to thyroid trouble, is treatable once it is named. Keeping the fortnight's notes inside his KinsLe Pet Passport, alongside his vaccinations, weights and past visit summaries, means the whole picture travels with him to every appointment and every decision.