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Je crie, donc je suis

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Sa Majesté Louis Catorze, Le Roi Soleil, supreme ruler of Le Château, sworn enemy of canine foe and scourge of Ocado delivery drivers.

  • Les jours de Twixmas

    Whilst it wasn’t the worst Christmas in living memory, it wasn’t the best, either. I still have the dregs of the flu that has been plaguing me for a week, and on Christmas morning Cat Daddy started to feel under the weather, too. Cooking Christmas dinner felt like all twelve labours of Hercules at once, but we did it. 

    Louis Catorze, on the other hand, is on top of the world, merci for asking. When he was first diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, we were determined to stick rigidly to his strict diet. But, seeing how well he’s doing, we are more relaxed about it. We would probably feel differently if he were younger and had his whole life ahead of him. However, since he’s already exceeded our expectations in terms of longevity – in fact, it’s now starting to creep us out – we don’t mind too much if he has the odd treat. 

    So, despite originally saying no when I suggested giving Catorze a turkey treat, on Boxing Day, Cat Daddy gave him a huge plateful of turkey and gravy. Catorze couldn’t believe his luck. 

    The little sod also had great fun bouncing around with a piece of gold ribbon and, when he had finished, he made himself a little nest with some leftover bubble wrap: 

    Satan’s little helper.

    We humans may be crumbling into dust, but at least we are able to provide the feline contingent with warmth, abundant food, entertainment and love. Le Roi Guillaume le Conquérant would be so proud that the feudal system is alive and well in west London in 2025. 

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Il y a de la place dans l’auberge

    As some wise person once said, “At Christmas time, to your enemy, give forgiveness; to your opponent, tolerance; and to cats, whatever the heck they want.” (At least I think it was something like that.)

    At this time of year we are taught to help others in need, especially those who turn up at our homes seeking shelter. That includes impinging Chats Noirs, right? 

    This beauty appeared at a family member’s house a little while ago:

    “Room for one more?”

    Given the timing of her visits, it’s likely that she has a home but no cat flap, hence being booted out whilst her family go to work, then being let in again when they return. The neighbourhood adventuring was probably quite fun in the summer, but it loses appeal considerably on a cold and miserable December day. 

    The kids have nicknamed her, erm, “Catty”, and have come to look forward to her visits. They never feed her, despite her best efforts to pretend to be starving, but they really enjoy her company. And the feeling seems to be mutual, with Catty purring and rolling with delight when he sees her secondary humans. 

    The adults in the family are enquiring around their street to find out where Catty’s permanent residence might be. In the meantime, free cat cuddles never did anyone any harm. 

    Wandering around as if she owns the place.

    Joyeuse Fête à tout le monde. Last Christmas I was in A&E so I already know that this one will be better.

    Festive purrs from Louis Catorze.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Le dieu de l’âge de pierre

    Every year, thousands of people gather at Stonehenge in Wiltshire for sunrise on the shortest day of the year. 

    This year, a very special guest joined them: 

    Picture from X.com.

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs, one of the revellers brought their cat with them. Or maybe it just randomly turned up. Both options are hilarious, although the latter would be funnier. 

    Naturellement, everyone forgot about the sunrise and the ancient mysticism, choosing, instead, to cuddle and photograph the cat. And he (I would bet my house on it being a male) lapped up every second. In fact, he probably thought that all the people were gathered there just for him. 

    The good people at Gloucestershire* Live  have hailed this as “a great omen for 2026”. Erm, have they ever met a black cat? Or do I have the only evil one in the whole world? 

    “What a year this is going to be!” Right.

    *Americans: it’s pronounced “GLOSS-ter-sherr”. 

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Le portrait ressemble au modèle 

    I managed to capture an uncharacteristically wistful Louis Catorze for his Official Yuletide* Portrait, which is very appropriate as the winter solstice is a time for calm reflection. It’s not often that we experience this feeling here at La Château, so we will gladly accept it despite it being highly misleading:

    Appearing to be deep in thought. Trust me, he isn’t.

    *I had originally called it his Official Winter Solstice Portrait but, when it became doubtful as to whether he would deliver on time, I changed it to Official Yuletide Portrait. “Yuletide” feels like a whole season, which absolves me/Catorze of the responsibility of being on time.

    We will monitor the portrait closely, and let you know if it ages and deteriorates.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Une soirée de belle mémoires

    Louis Catorze helpfully points out the next window to be opened on the advent calendar.

    Writing about our departed pets on the winter solstice wasn’t something I’d planned to do regularly. However, last year a friend contacted me to ask if I’d be doing it again, having done it the previous year, because she would like me to feature her cat. So now, it seems, it has become a permanent feature, and I think it’s a rather nice one. 

    Thank you to my friend Carole for the idea. 

    Last year only two pets were mentioned, and three the previous year. This year it’s quite a lot more: 

    Mischievous Chris.
    Handsome Jimi.
    Lovable Nelly. (Not a cat but still worthy of a place here.)
    Delightful Jasper.
    Adorable Tipsy.
    Stunning Delilah.
    Gorgeous Finnegan.
    Regal Amber.
    Cheeky Pumpkin.
    Elegant Crackers.

    Seeing this gallery has made me feel more grateful than ever to still have Louis Catorze; I don’t know how he is still managing to gad about the planet, making the amount of noise that he does (!), at fifteen and a half, yet here we are. And, although he’s a massive pain in the arse, we can’t imagine life without him. 

    We hope you have a lovely solstice, either cuddling your furry overlords/ladies or fondly remembering those who are no longer with us. 

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Le cadre est la plus belle chose dans une image 

    What skills or lessons have you learned recently?

    My very clever and creative sister has made some decorations for the Christmas tree in her local church. The brief was “chorister” and I’m sure you will agree that she’s nailed it:

    “Hallelujah!”

    She has always been good at crafting. However, displaying her work for photography is a skill that has taken a new turn recently; in fact, the reason I’m posting this picture here is not for the decorations, lovely as they are, but for the velvety black cushion on which they rest. 

    Yes, the cushion is alive. Yes, it’s Rodan. And, no, this wouldn’t work with Louis Catorze, not even once I’d picked all the manky bits off him first.

    I guess some cats are just born ready for the festive season. Others, not so much. 

    Rodan is feeling festive.
    Mothra is feeling festive.
    Louis Catorze is not feeling festive.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Mon beau sapin, roi des forêts

    We have just taken delivery of our tree.

    When we received it last year, the delivery gentleman turned out to be a Cat Man, much to Louis Catorze’s delight. This time it was a different gentleman but he was just as much a Cat Man as the previous one. 

    Delivery Gentleman: “Whereabouts would you like the tree?”

    Me: “Just here, please.”

    Catorze: “Mwah!”

    DG: “Hello Puss!” [Strokes Catorze.]

    Me: “He loves vistors. Especially men.”

    Catorze: “MWAH!”

    DG: “Aww, well I appreciate the love, Puss!” [More cuddles for Catorze, who is absolutely beside himself.]

    Whilst I was decorating the tree, Catorze sat beside me, screaming and screaming. However, this made me work more quickly, and I think I managed to successfully do the job in the fastest time ever. 

    Now that the tree is decorated, we face the Herculean task of trying to persuade Catorze to pose with it for his Official Yuletide Portrait. This year he managed to produce one of his best Official Hallowe’en Portraits to date, so could this be a fortuitous year for portrait sittings? Or has he peaked in his capacity as subject matter? 

    The following attempts appear to indicate the latter: 

    No.
    No.

    We still have a few days until the winter solstice and, at a push, we could stretch it out to Christmas if we haven’t achieved our desired goal by the solstice. Let’s hope that the good spirits of the season will be on our side. 

    *EDIT: after all these years of never arsing around with the tree decorations, I found evidence of decoration arsery when I came downstairs the next morning. I hope this isn’t going to become a thing.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Le véritable esprit de Noël réside dans votre carte de crédit

    Louis Catorze has just been for his Yuletide steroid jab. 

    The little sod was starting to scratch and his fur was thinning around the eyes, so we knew that it was almost time. He would probably have lasted another week or two before things turned desperate. However, we wanted to avoid the festive frenzy when every animal in the country will require veterinary treatment, having waited all year for the least convenient time. 

    Naturellement, with half an hour to go, we couldn’t find Catorze. Searching for him isn’t exactly fun at the best of times but, right now, my knees and shoulder are bad, and Cat Daddy’s knees and lower back are REALLY bad, so the last thing we wanted to do was scrabble around trying to extract a cat from a horrendously inaccessible sleeping spot. Yet there we were, shunting boxes and suitcases around under the bed until one of them successfully dislodged Catorze from where he had settled, right in the centre and out of reach. 

    Cat Daddy: “It’s like being a grouse beater.” Nah. I bet they have more fun.

    The drive there was the usual screamathon, which faded momentarily, only to resume with extra vigour once we had entered the Gates of Hell and Catorze realised where we were. 

    The good news is that Catorze is exactly the same weight as he was on his last visit, and he didn’t even flinch when the needle went into him. Cat Daddy was so shocked that he started singing, “Louis Catorze, he’s on his way home”, to the tune of Sloop John B, IN FRONT OF THE VET. 

    As we paid the bill, the receptionist expressed sympathy that “the poor little love” had to endure so many vet visits. She then revealed that she had ten (!) cats, of which just one needed regular treatment. “I bring him in quite a lot, but nowhere near the level of …” [nodding towards Catorze, who started screaming again]. 

    Me: “…”

    Cat Daddy: “…”

    Anyway, Catorze is now itch-free and can look forward to a comfortable festive season. And Cat Daddy and I have £90 less to spend on Christmas dinner. I was about to say, “Catorze couldn’t have planned it better” but he would probably view that as a dare, and we really don’t want that. 

    KramPuss the Yuletide demon was more relaxed on the way home.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • L’admiration rend l’admirateur stupide

    What do others do that sparks your admiration?

    I don’t know if “admiration” is the right word. In fact, I even know what the right word ought to be. Is there a single word for “Gotta hand it to them for trying that stupid shit and getting away with it”? 

    I’m talking about cats, of course. Yes, all of them. Including yours. 

    Although their behaviour disgusts me at times, I can’t help but give them some sort of credit for being complete bastards, yet having the whole world coo at them and think that they’re cute. 

    Louis Catorze is the KING of all this. And he knows it. 

    There’s not much I can say to that.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Blue Monday*

    Bastard cats. If it’s not yours being a massive shite, it’s someone else’s. There’s absolutely no respite from it. 

    Blue the Smoke Bengal went missing the other day. He went out in the morning and then didn’t come home, which is unusual for him. His mamma was, understandably, very concerned, especially as calling, shaking his food, and having us and Family Next Door search our sheds all failed to yield any results. 

    I even asked Louis Catorze to go out and tell his friend to hurry home. Naturellement he didn’t understand me, presumably because I said it in English and not French. And, even if he had understood, he’d have done nothing about it. In fact, he’d probably have gone to Blue and said, “Bien joué, mon pote! Quelle blague!” 

    Eventually I posted a message, on behalf of Blue’s mamma, on our street’s WhatsApp group, asking neighbours to look out for him (although I refrained from saying, “If you have cats, please ask them to pass the message along”). Blue then reappeared immediately, covered in crud and so filthy that his mamma had to scrub him down with a damp towel. Nobody knows where he went, nor will we ever find out. 

    Time elapsed between me posting on the group to announce him missing, and me having to post again to say he was home: three minutes. THREE MINUTES. 

    And about the same amount of time elapsed between Blue returning and his mamma having to teach an online class, so there was no time for her to decompress beforehand. 

    I know of others who have also had their missing cats return within minutes of posting the online SOS, and I swear the little sods do it on purpose to make us look neurotic and to have everyone think we’re too lazy to search properly. 

    In this case it wasn’t even my cat. 

    I guess it’s no bad thing that we have an almost-guaranteed method of getting them back when they disappear. It’s just a shame that we have to look like utter fools in the process.

    *Yes, this incident actually did take place on a Monday.

    Naughty Blue.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • La fin d’une mauvaise année 

    What positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?

    To be honest, 2025 has been a bit of a shit circus for me and Cat Daddy, and we can’t wait to kick its sorry arse out of the door and welcome in 2026. 

    Although my surgeries were a year ago, the consequences of taking the triple-whammy of antibiotics afterwards have been far-reaching; I still don’t feel normal, nor do I think I ever will be. 

    (At the time, we just take antibiotics because we’re told to do so, and because we’re scared that we will catch sepsis and die if we refuse. Perhaps if they told us the truth, i.e. “These are just a precautionary measure, but they will mess you up for months and months to come”, we would be a little more cautious.) 

    Cat Daddy’s health is also taking a dramatic downturn, with debilitating back and knee pain. He’s been suffering ever since mid-October and doesn’t seem to be improving much. 

    Louis Catorze, however, at the ripe old age of fifteen and a half (about seventy-eight in cat years) couldn’t be better. That is the most important thing. In fact, it’s all you need to know. 

    He’s all right, Jacques.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Le club des petits-déjeuners

    After showing zero concern for human food for all these years, Louis Catorze has decided that he’s now interested.

    He doesn’t usually eat any of the food (apart from that one fateful time which had huge repercussions for months afterwards); he just licks it and walks away. However, this makes it more annoying because then the food is ruined and nobody benefits from it.

    Every morning, I prepare my old-lady breakfast of stewed apple and ricotta and bring it into the living room. Before eating it, I wrap myself in a blanket and tuck the edges right underneath my body, a bit like when you wrap a beef wellington tightly in pastry. Once I’m sealed in, I’m there for the next half hour. 

    Catorze often comes to sit with me, but I have to be very careful in case he lunges for my breakfast. One morning he was especially maniacal and excitable, so it was quite the feat to do the wellingtoning with one hand and fend him off with the other. I was quite proud of myself for managing to achieve both but, in the midst of it all, I forgot to secure the spoon. 

    BASTARD CAT LICKED THE SPOON. 

    I was the left in a quandary: do I use a cat-spitty spoon, or do I un-wellington myself and dislodge Catorze to go and fetch another one? 

    In the end I did neither. I ate the apple and ricotta with my fingers, like a savage. And I had to sort of drink the last bits. Not my proudest moment but the Law of the Wellington decrees that, once wellingtoned, one does not move unless the house is on fire. Plus I was TUC, compounding the issue and making any kind of movement even more impossible. 

    We all know that the little bastards rule our lives, but to drive us to eat our almost-liquid breakfast with our fingers is quite something. Please, someone, send help now. 

    Absolute bastard cat.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Crains les méchants, et ne blesse pas les bons

    Cat Daddy is away in New York at the moment, so it’s just me and Louis Catorze at Le Château. And the bullshittery started on the very first day of Cat Daddy’s absence, with Catorze thumping around late at night, sounding just like an adult human, then either being invisible or sitting eerily still when I went to investigate. 

    Last night I also heard cat fight sounds coming from outside. No, I didn’t go out and look to see if it was him. Yes, I already knew.

    Actually Catorze isn’t fat, but he’s certainly plushier than he was, thanks to the winter coat that he developed in, erm, August.
    Catorze’s chonkier American relative.

    Rather more creepily, Catorze’s voice has changed. It’s just different. I can’t explain how, but it is: 

    Sorry … WHAT?

    Is this even Catorze, or has Satan swapped him for some malevolent changeling? And, more importantly, should I try to find out what’s happened to the real Catorze, or just keep the changeling, who will, most likely, be less of a pain in the arse? 

    I haven’t even bothered to tell Cat Daddy about most of this, because there’s no point. Not only would he disbelieve me but, by the time he came back, Satan would have had enough of Catorze and swapped back. So at least I’m only stuck with this – whatever “this” may be – for a few more days. 

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com

  • Chez le médecin royal

    Cat Daddy took Louis Catorze for his booster jabs not long ago. The trip there was the usual shit circus, with constant screaming on the journey there and in the waiting room. 

    The vet was a new one who hadn’t seen Catorze before. When she attempted the injection with Catorze on the table, it didn’t work because the little sod fought and kicked with the strength of ten angry bears. Because he’s small and sickly, people always assume he’s physically weak. But he always surprises them – especially when they’re trying to get him to do something he doesn’t want to do.

    So they had to attempt it again, this time with Cat Daddy holding him, and luckily it was fine the second time.

    On the plus side, the vet did say that Catorze looked good for fifteen and a half (true), and that he was cute (whatever). And Cat Daddy created a new song for him, to the tune of Sloop John B like last time, as follows: 

    “Louis went for a jab
    He felt quite a stab
    But now he’s ok ‘cos he’s on his way home
    He’s on his way home 
    He’s on his way home 
    Louis Catorze, he’s on his way home.”

    After arriving home Catorze was absolutely manic, racing around in circles from the kitchen through the dining room and into the hallway, all the while howling like a rabid wolf. Cat Daddy was convinced that Catorze was trying to tell us something. I searched our absolute tip of a dining room as best I could and couldn’t see anything, although no doubt I’ll pick up some random object tomorrow and find an oozing, maggoty rat underneath. 

    Although he wore himself out and ended up snoozing happily on my lap, we have never previously seen this kind of deranged behaviour in him straight after a vet visit.

    What happened? Will this be yet another Roi Mystery, never to be solved? 

    He moves in mysterious ways.

    For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com