‘The realisation that what I’d been feeding my cat wasn’t hitting the spot, was a sobering one’

“China doesn’t feely well.” These four words were whispered into my ear, accompanied by the tell-tale lisp of a six-year-old missing a few front teeth. “Mummy. Wake up! China doesn’t feely well.”

Bleary-eyed, I pushed myself up on my elbows against the pillows, groping both for my glasses and the clock to see if it was as early (late?) as it felt. It was. At 3am, why exactly was I being woken to be told the cat wasn’t “feely well”?

“I’m sure China’s fine, baby,” I yawned. “He’s happy. He’s asleep. Like we should all be at three in the morning… now, go back to bed…”

But it didn’t stop, of course. As so many parents of young kids can attest: you are prodded and finger-poked and badgered and “but why”-ed until you pay adequate attention to the issue at hand. In this case, it was the health and wellbeing of the man of the house: China Miowville Esq, named after “weird fiction” writer China Mieville (who I once met at a reading of one of his books and told him of his feline namesake – he duly thanked me for the “ honour” and was exceedingly gracious about my borrowing his title. Swoon).

Mums and dads and grandparents and carers know how this works: you’re not getting back to bed until you “prove” there isn’t a monster under the bed, or the tooth fairy is real, or the world isn’t flat, or that aliens aren’t hiding in the dining room. Which means… there’s absolutely no way I was getting back to sleep unless I went to check on China.

Downstairs we trotted, holding hands, and on a sofa lay the cat in question. There he was: with fur so black you can barely pick him out from the shadows; soft, snoring – and totally asleep. I asked my son why he was so worried about him, and he led me into the kitchen, where his bowl of food was… completely full. Ah. Okay. I see. China, it seems, was turning his nose up at his regular dinner. It wasn’t the first time he’d refused his food, so what had prompted this late-night (or early-morning) realisation?

To my son’s grim and grotesque delight, we then went back upstairs, where he pointed out the damning clue: a small pile of cat sick on the floor of his bedroom. Oh dear. I felt like Nancy Drew, only the mystery appeared to be solely that China was not happy with his food. And was making a very clear protest about it.

I cleaned the remnants of whatever he’d chosen to munch on instead – which was thankfully completely unidentifiable by this point – and sprayed carpet cleaner on the floor (just what you want to be doing at three in the morning – am I right?).

“Mummy,” my son said sombrely, as he climbed back into bed: “I don’t think China likes his food very much.”

Worried there might be something else wrong, we booked China in for a check-up at the vet, who told us that given China’s age and heft (5.2kg), he needed a balanced diet; one more suited to someone of his weight and maturity and more sensitive stomach. Point duly taken. China needed (and deserved) food befitting of a gentleman.

The realisation that the food I had been buying the most important member of the family – the one who is fed first, who takes breakfast before any one of us, the one for whom a trip to the vets is a day out for the entire family – was not hitting the spot, was a sobering one.

I confess I had been shopping mostly out of chance: between the hectic daily shuttle of the school run, breakfast club and commuting to work, the brand of dry food I bought him wasn’t so much a conscious choice, as it was convenience. As it turned out, he didn’t like it. Yes, he’d sometimes sniff the bowl and walk away, but now he was actively munching on other stuff instead, and then throwing it up on my carpet. He’d very much let his feelings be known.

What to do? As a busy, full-time working single parent, I didn’t have time to drive miles around town looking for specific cat food – but, as it turned out, I didn’t need to. I hadn’t even realised that you could buy a brand of dry food that was both nutritional and tasty – online, at my vets and also at numerous pet specialist stores. I had no idea. I’d been overlooking something infinitely more delicious than the remnants of whatever had graced my carpet in the early hours.

China’s much happier now he’s on PRO PLAN, he’s gobbling up the turkey flavour, leaving his dish clean because he’s actually enjoying the taste, and his digestion seems much improved – there’s been no more bringing in meals from the outdoors, and therefore, no more vomit. We are on a completely different trajectory now. No more 3am wake-ups. Thank you, PRO PLAN.