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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.

  • Ni manger, ni vivre (Partie 21)

    Part 21. I bet you thought that this sorry saga was in the past, didn’t you? Well, it’s not.

    Cat Daddy and I bought ourselves some hot-smoked salmon as a New Year treat. We took some to a friend’s house and ate it there, so that we could enjoy it in peace without being bullied and intimidated by Louis Catorze. And we decided to finish the last of it at home, on an especially cold day, when we knew that the little sod would be buried so deeply in his igloo that not even tear gas would shake him out. 

    It seems that we hugely underestimated the power of the hot-smoked salmon’s come-hither aroma. This was, after all, not only the food that Catorze stole from my plate, but the food that drove him to go on hunger strike for two days when I didn’t give him more. (Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: Catorze would rather starve to death slowly than be forced to eat his second choice of food, even if said food was perfectly acceptable to him prior to encountering his top choice.)

    Anyway, the hot-smoked salmon flushed Catorze out of his igloo with the speed and devastating efficacy of an atomic bomb. And, for the remainder of our meal, we were subjected to this: 

    Go away.

    And this: 

    Go away.

    And this:

    GO AWAY.

    Note that his bowl, in the background, was full. 

    Ordinarily, we would have no objection to sharing a few slivers of good fish with an ageing animal approaching the end of his life. But do we want to feed him nothing but hot-smoked salmon for the rest of his days? And, knowing him, he would probably then go on to live for another fifteen years, just to spite us.

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

  • Le projet du chat à l’infini

    Think back on your most memorable road trip.

    This road trip didn’t actually happen because the surplus cat was busted beforehand. But, had the little sod got away with it, it would have been a hell of an adventure. Can you picture this scenario: travelling to the vet in the car, opening up the transportation pod during the consultation and finding an extra cat in there?

    Louis Catorze’s ami Penfold had an appointment recently, so his human put him into his pod, then went to put on her coat. Imagine her surprise when she returned to find another cat in the pod with Penfold. 

    The other cat was Penfold’s sister Indie and not just some arbitrary cat off the street (although that would have been side-splittingly hilarious). But why? And, more to the point, HOW? 

    “This pod feels unusually heavy. WAIT … WHAT?”

    Perhaps your first thought was that the pod hadn’t been locked properly, allowing Indie in. But, if that were the case, how did she manage to lock it after herself, once in? 

    Anyway, Indie was unceremoniously turfed out, which was quite a challenge as Penfold was desperate to escape at the same time. And, eventually, the right number of cats made it to the vet. 

    However, now that we know that they can do this, should we all be checking for extra passengers prior to every vet visit? Or – and this is a deeply disturbing thought – once secured in the pod, are they able to CLONE THEMSELVES?

    Actual footage of Indie entering the pod.

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

  • L’aïeul orange 

    Cat Daddy and I have just spent the weekend with his sister and brother-in-law. Part of that involved sorting through boxes of their dad’s belongings, some of which dated back to before World War II. 

    Among the war memorabilia, the books and the letters, we found this photo: 

    The front.
    The back.

    We always knew that he was a Cat Man, but until now we had no idea that Louis Catorze’s Cat Grandpa had a cat called Lewis. Judging from this picture, it looks as if Lewis was a ginge, so Cat Grandpa clearly had a penchant for the naughty ones (which explains why he got on so well with Catorze). The thought of the war hero returning home to his orange cat makes our hearts glow. 

    So, however much he may protest, and whether he likes it or not, Cat Daddy has catness in his blood. Ha. 

    Meanwhile, back in TW8, Blue the Smoke Bengal’s mamma, who was feeding Catorze in our absence, reported that the little sod had a “big appetite” and ate “every scrap of food” served. This is the same cat who, when I dish up his Orijen, sniffs it, gives me the “And what the hell do you call THIS shit?” look, then walks away. 

    Here he is, about twenty minutes after our return, wailing pathetically at the food I’ve just given him – which is the EXACT SAME FOOD that he had during our absence:

    Apologies for the football commentary in the background.

    Please, someone, explain this beast?

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

  • Mission: implacable

    What is your mission?

    To annoy the merde out of as many people as possible, and to have a great time doing it.

    Mission almost accomplished. If he’s not yet reached you, there’s still time.

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

  • Le monde devant soi 

    Apart from the snow – which was only the lightest dusting, and it didn’t last – my one wish for 2026 was for Louis Catorze to stop escaping out at The Front every night. I wanted it so much that even lit a candle and whispered my wish to the spirits of the Wolf Moon at the start of the month. 

    No Official Winter Portrait, but perhaps Catorze’s pulsating fur cracks could become the latest one of those ASMR videos?

    The spirits listened, and they did as I asked. Catorze no longer escapes out at The Front every night. 

    He has started doing it in the morning instead. (Note: they did as I ASKED, not as I wanted.)

    Did someone say “bad moon rising”?

    Sometimes, when you complain about something, the universe delivers you a curveball which is worse, making you wonder if, perhaps, that first thing wasn’t so bad after all. When Catorze escaped at The Front at night, whilst massively annoying and inconvenient, at least I could hand the baton to Cat Daddy* if I tired of waiting up for the little sod. 

    *With varying levels of success, depending on alcohol consumed.

    However, when he does it in the morning, there’s more traffic, and the street is busier which means more people are available to be offended by the gut-churning screaming. There’s a good hour and a half between me leaving for work and Cat Daddy rising from his pit, which means Catorze is completely unsupervised. And, of course, it’s daylight, which means there is little-to-no chance of convincingly using the “It must have been some other black cat” lie excuse defence.

    The only solution to this is having to be extra vigilant when I open the front door in the mornings. I already find mornings a stressful rush, so having to add something else that my to-do list isn’t particularly welcome. But then, as I have said many times in the past, my convenience is irrelevant. It’s all about the Dark Master. 

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

  • Laissez les bons temps rouler

    What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?

    At fifteen and a half, Louis Catorze has already lived a much longer life than anyone ever expected of him. However, it’s unlikely that he has any thoughts on it. In fact, I highly doubt that he even knows (or cares) what “living a long life” is. 

    Catorze’s journey through his senior years is no different from the way in which he pitter-pattered through his younger years: food, water, freedom to roam, the best medical care (perhaps administered a little more frequently than before, but that’s our problem, not his) and abundant love from everyone that he meets.

    If only we humans could be afforded the same as we age. 

    We’ve already found a retirement home for him. We are it.

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

  • Où est la neige?

    What is the only thing worse than not getting a snow bomb as promised? Everyone else getting a snow bomb apart from you, that’s what. 

    My mum and sisters each had a light scattering of snow, enough to make their surroundings look pretty and for the kids to make snow angels, but there hasn’t been so much as a speck here in West London. The most wintry sight I have seen so far is my damp hair freezing on a walk through Chiswick, although I don’t suppose that counts.

    So Louis Catorze’s Official Winter Portrait continues to elude us. 

    The second snowfall which was forecast for Wednesday now predicts “light sleet”, which is nowhere near as good. Absolutely nobody wants sleet. Plus I will be back at work, so I won’t be around to photograph the little sod outdoors in the daylight. I am hoping that Cat Daddy might oblige, although I am gearing up for the unbridled flow of Unrepeatable Expletives that will spill from his lips when I ask.

    On the lookout for snow. (It’s not coming.)

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

  • Le jeu est le principe de tous les arts

    What is the greatest gift someone could give you?

    Having a rest before the next lot of madness.

    A bit of peace, just once in a while, would be nice. But there’s no chance of that in this house.

    I swear that that black cat who gatecrashed Stonehenge on the winter solstice ripped a gaping hole in the space-time continuum because, ever since then, Louis Catorze has been manic. And there was a full moon last night, which has undoubtedly made things worse.

    Until a few days ago, Catorze’s nonsense had consisted mainly of him arsing around with his toys and a bit of galloping around the house. Now, however, his MO is to knock things off the coffee table, act surprised that they’ve fallen and then jump down to attack them before they attack him first. 

    The items that he has knocked down include the following: 

    • Lip balm pots
    • Soft toys (for humans, not ones designed as cat playthings)
    • Pens
    • Paracetamol blister packs
    • Sweets
    • Coasters   
    • Somewhat less pleasingly, my very expensive glasses (twice)

    Oh, and he also jumped into the Christmas decorations bag and thrashed around so violently that he tore the bag.

    Family Next Door gave Catorze, for Christmas, a knitted cravate with a bell attached, which he refuses to wear but absolutely loves as a toy.  And, somehow, even long after playing with it, he remains in a hyped-up, psychotic mood for some time, jumping onto high surfaces and generally annoying the shit out of us.

    Cat Daddy: “Look at him. We need to keep him away from catnip if it’s going to make him like this.” Erm, he hasn’t had any catnip. This is sober Catorze. Let that sink in.

    Does this mean that 2026 will be a healthy year for him?

    Cat Daddy, without looking up from his phone: “It bloody well ought to be, with the money we spend on him.”

    A piece of ribbon! And air! What fun playthings!

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

  • La bombe de neige 

    Happy New Year to you all, and I hope that you spent New Year’s Eve doing exactly what you wanted to do. We did: I went to bed early like an old lady, and Cat Daddy and Louis Catorze stayed up late for a special, extended Boys’ Club. After not minding fireworks, then disliking them, Catorze has changed his mind again and decided that, actually, they’re not so bad. Which is just as well as there were a lot of them, both at The Front and The Back.

    Ever since late December, everyone* has been saying that we UK residents will be getting a snow bomb. I don’t even really know what a snow bomb is, but it sounds absolutely brilliant. 

    *Mainly the trashy media outlets.

    Now, I know that snow causes absolute chaos if you have something important to do, or if you need to travel to work. However, if you don’t have anything important to do, or if work is within reasonable walking distance, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

    I don’t know whether or not Catorze likes the snow, because he hasn’t spent a great deal of time in it. However, since I have only managed to take two Catorzian snow photos – one of him, and one of his paw prints – in all the years that I’ve lived with him, and I think it’s about time that we had more. 

    Snow beast.

    If you have been following Le Blog for any length of time, you will know that Catorze has a natural talent for producing the worst photographs imaginable (he does it on purpose), plus he’s not particularly compliant when we want him to do something. We are also dependent on the snow bomb being a real thing and not just some made-up shite, plus we need enough of it to fall in TW8 to make a presentable backdrop for a Catorzian photo shoot.

    There are so many variables to consider here, but will the good spirits of 2026 make them work for us? 

    *EDIT: obviously, when a snow bomb is on its way, sensible animals take refuge somewhere warm. Catorze, however, has just escaped out at The Front. It’s 11pm and I want to go to bed, but I am now doomed to a wakeful vigil until the little sod decides to come in. 

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

  • Pour retrouver sa jeunesse, il suffit d’en répéter les folies

    This dark time of year is traditionally associated with rest and quiet introspection. However, for Louis Catorze, it’s time to play.

    No cat should have a head shape like this.

    Unfortunately, Cat Daddy and I don’t want to play, New Year or not, especially since one of us has just had the flu and the other is still dealing with a long-standing knee/hip/lower back injury which doesn’t seem to be improving. We were hoping for the rest and quiet introspection. However, it’s never been about us or what we want, has it? It’s all about Catorze. 

    Catorze has been letting us know that he wants to play by jumping onto the shutters to eyeball passing dogs, thundering around the house with surprisingly heavy feet, trying to climb into the shredder (what could POSSIBLY go wrong there?) and so on. Sometimes we hear wood clattering against wood in the next room and, when we investigate, we find that he’s pulled out one of his string-on-a-stick toys from its storage place and is arsing around with it. 

    Silly sod’s play has ruined our leather sofa. When Cat Daddy saw this, the Unrepeatable Expletives flowed like champagne at a Tory Party conference.

    Oh and, whilst we were away for our family’s Christmas gathering, we had ANOTHER chat-sitteur comment on how loud Catorze is. We should probably put up a sign saying, “No, nothing is wrong with him. That’s just his normal voice.” 

    We always thought that someone somewhere had a portrait of Catorze in their attic. But perhaps his MO is draining his humans’ health and energy, leaving us to rot away slowly whilst he remains freakishly youthful? I’m furious with myself for not spotting this before (not that I could have done anything about it). 

    Bonne année à tous, and thank you for another year of supporting Catorze. May you glide effortlessly through 2026 like an ageless vampire, never requiring Lemsip or Deep Heat. 

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

  • 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