My cat of twelve years died on my birthday. He had been sick with Triaditis for about 6 weeks and I had to feed him through a tube 3 times a day. Each time would take about an hour and a half.
He was getting better, too. Putting on weight, and ate his own meals for 5 days. But the E-tube got infected and so we took it out 2 days early.
He got home. He vomited. He stopped eating for two days. He started vomiting and acted in pain and so I took him in again. They discovered fluid in his abdomen. He was too skinny from his digestion issues for a further hospitalization and he was in pain.
He slept each night in my armpit with his head on my shoulder.
I worked from home before the pandemic, and so I was with him almost all of the time for his life. I loved his tiny 6 lb ass.
He was a bathroom communist. It could be 3 a.m. and I could check that he was asleep, and when I looked up from sitting on the toilet, the door would be slightly ajar and he’d be in front of me watching the door.
I miss you, little dude.
Batteries for something like this would be something like a lake on top of, and at the bottom of, a mountain.
Then you use excess power to move water up, and when you need power, the water comes down through a turbine.