Our quick trip to Colorado Springs disrupted my cat photos for the week, so I was scrambling for a suitable Feline Friday when Duke delivered.

Here’s the thing with travel and Duke.

Since 2010, when he was diagnosed with feline diabetes, Duke has required insulin shots twice a day, morning and evening. And for most of the time since, there’s been a second diabetic in our cat family. Mr. Silverman was the second to be diagnosed, and then later Ms. Kili also turned out to be mildly diabetic.

Under normal circumstances, getting them their shots at approximately the right times is an inconvenience. Living out in Kaaawa, we have had to give up most evening events in Honolulu, except for special occasions when we plan carefully in advance.

For several years, if we wanted to travel, the boys would have to go into the slammer. By that I mean boarding at VCA in Kaneohe, where diabetes put them into the “medical boarding” category. Good care, high cost. Sort of akin to paying for a hotel room for the cats for each night we are off island.

Then we found a cat sitter willing to give the shots. But there’s one problem. Duke is shy, and even the arrival of a familiar cat sitter sends him running for cover. And if he’s hiding, even a willing cat sitter can’t give him his shots.

So we bought a pet crate which can fold up when not in use. When we leave, Duke goes into the crate. It’s far from ideal, and we feel bad about it. But I think there’s more space than they get when boarding at VCA, and there are no dogs barking, or strangers working right around the boarding area. We save money, our pet sitter makes extra money, and Duke gains a bit of space.

But he’s still locked up, and we worry.

So over last weekend, while we were gone, he spent several days in his crate. We refer to it as “the spa.”

As soon as it was clear that our return flight was actually going to take off, we contacted our cat sitter and told her to let Duke out after his morning shot.

So we got home and he was enjoying his freedom, while we still carried a bit of residual guilt.

Then he surprised us.

We started noticing that he was slipping into “the spa” on his own and apparently enjoying his private retreat. When I got up in the early morning, Duke was asleep in the spa. If we sit down after dinner to watch television, Duke suddenly appeared…in the spa.

So I think we have our answer. From a fat cat’s perspective, a week in the spa isn’t such a bad thing. Meals served regularly, fresh water provided, insulin on schedule, a little catnip, and even a private litter box.

Here’s a photo I took last night when I noticed him setting up shop there in the spa. Notice that the door is open, he’s free to come and go. And he just came and stayed.