Twelve plain questions, a verdict in hours, and every gap named. Free — and nothing you answer leaves your browser.
Of everything on the in-case lists, the pet is the only one on a clock measured in hours. Bills forgive a week. A cat does not. If you live alone with an animal, the pet plan isn't a section of your organizer — it's the reason the first page exists.
Tonight's neighbor is a bridge, not a plan. Name the person who takes your pet for a week — asked, agreed, written down. If it's family at a distance, write down how the handoff works: who brings the pet, what travels with them (food, medicine, vet records, the carrier, the blanket that smells like home).
And the hard one, asked gently: if you couldn't come back to them at all, who have you chosen — and have you told them, and is it written where your person will find it? Pets are surrendered to shelters every week by families who loved them and simply didn't know a plan existed. A written name prevents that. (A note on mechanics: wishes about pets belong in your organizer as guidance for your people; anything with legal force about money or custody for a pet is attorney territory, and a short conversation with one is worth it if this matters deeply to you.)
The Organizer Kit gives the pet a full sheet of its own — routine, vet, medicine, the tonight person, the week person, the long-term person. It's the section buyers tell us they fill in first. See the kit.