For Matt, it's to pass his blood pressure test tomorrow morning. He's fretting. He almost always passes it, but he frets anyway. It must be the "almost" part that gets him fretting.
But I don't have to worry about such things, only that Matt doesn't abandon me like my last owner. This would mean that I would starve and slowly wither away and die. I would have no predisone administered to me to reduce my inner inflammation, allowing me to eliminate waste matter (poo) properly. In laycats terms, I'd get bound up with a thousand fur balls. It wouldn't matter what someone fed me, or what wonderful dumpster I'd eat out of. Oh, I miss dumpsters...like a grande buffet: dead rats, fish heads, and thousands of other surprises just waiting for me to sample them.
So I lay there....and wait for the next bout of excitement...or the next meal...or the next fly to buzz by me...and I just live.