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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.

  • Attention au succès: il a un côté sombre

    How do you define success in life?

    Since now feels like a good time to avoid anything over-ambitious, my definition of success is getting Louis Catorze to eat his pills first time.

    We knew that, after such a diagnosis, Catorze would require additional medication going forward. But we hadn’t quite counted on him needing this much, this often, all with different rules.

    Luckily, two of the doses can be given together, which helps a little. Also, merci à Dieu / gracias a Dios / grazie a Dio for jambon de Bayonne, jamón Ibérico and prosciutto di Parma, because Catorze likes them. Although they are horrifically bad for cats, using them to wrap his pills is the only way he will take them.

    There are conditions, of course: naturellement, he likes the Trojan Horse best when it’s fresh. If the meat has been hanging around for a while or – heaven forbid – has been FROZEN AND THAWED, he’s not interested.

    He also prefers the fatty white bits, which works for us because they’re stickier and hold everything together better. However, because each pack is only about 0.3% fatty white meat, there is a lot left over afterwards, which Cat Daddy and I then eat. Yes, we eat our cat’s leftovers/rejects. 

    Oh, and preparing a bulk lot of Trojan Horses in advance, to save time, doesn’t work. The longer the meat is in contact with the pill, the more the pilly flavour infuses and the greater the likelihood of rejection. So each one has to be made to order, and served immediately. 

    Yes, it’s complicated. And there are times when the stress of it all keeps me awake at night. But we know just how lucky we are to still have the little sod with us.

    Showing off his vet-shaved belly.

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

  • Le début de la fin?

    You know when cats are screaming and screaming, and humans say, “Yes, I know”? Well, I didn’t know before. However, after yesterday morning, I knew. 

    Louis Catorze had to be on nil by mouth as he was due for his X-ray and scan. And, dear God, it was horrendous. He hasn’t been screaming all that much over the last couple of days, but he certainly found his voice then. The little sod screamed his guts out all morning, and he even jumped up onto the kitchen worktop – where he knows he’s not allowed – to scream at me during my workout. 

    I told him that I knew, and this time I really did. But it didn’t help. 

    Anyway, it turns out that he has cardiomyopathy. No, I hadn’t heard of it, either. Apparently it’s a disorder affecting the heart muscles and their ability to pump blood around the body. And Catorze, being Catorze, has the rarer version which is a thinning, rather than a thickening, of the tissue. 

    We have three new types of medication to give him, FIVE (!) times a day: one for the actual cardiomyopathy, one for potential blood clots, and a third one whose purpose I can’t remember. And one of these pills has to be cut into quarters, despite measuring 0mm x 0mm to start with. How exactly does one cut nothing into even smaller units? 

    Seems simple enough, right?
    Oh, for shit’s sake.

    Of these three medications, one of them may potentially be phased out over time. But the other two are forever. This will have a huge impact on our lives, especially as we’re dealing with a cat sneaky enough to pretend to swallow, then press himself into my body for a fake cuddle, only to silently spit the pill into my hair. (Yes, he has done this before. And it took me a while to figure it out.)

    Naturellement, after bringing Catorze home, I tried to give him his evening dose of one of the pills, and he just wasn’t having it. He refused it both in a Trojan Horse and hidden in his regular food, so in the end I had to use brute force. This did not go down well, and he went off to hide in some unknown place so I couldn’t give him his evening thyroid medication. 

    Catorze is due back at the vet’s on Friday, to see how he’s getting on with his medication (I know – bold of them to assume we will get any into him). After that, we don’t know what will happen … but it looks set to be a very rough road indeed, for all three of us. 

    Well, imagine that!

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

  • Les pluies de novembre 

    If you had a free round-trip ticket to anywhere, where would you go?

    If the ticket covered treatment and not just travel, I’d probably get excellent value from an all-expenses-paid trip to the vet. Our credit card is sitting in a foetal position and crying at the prospect of what’s about to happen.

    First, a little Hallowe’en update: despite it being the highest holy day in a black vampire cat’s calendar, Louis Catorze decided that he didn’t want to spend Hallowe’en with us boring humans. Instead, he went out to gallivant with the demons. 

    (Don’t worry, he didn’t go anywhere near The Front and was only allowed at The Back, where he is perfectly safe. Catorze doesn’t wander anywhere near far enough to get into any mischief at The Back. In fact, I fear far more for the other passing wildlife than for him.)

    The next morning, the little sod puked on me twice: once on my white joggers and again on a hand-wash-only Tibetan wool shawl given to me by Cat Daddy’s sister. There was no hork-hork warning klaxon; in fact, each incident was more like a sudden, aggressive burp that went too far, rather than the traditional, high-drama cat puke that we all know and love. 

    This made us wonder if, perhaps, Catorze wasn’t quite fully healed from his pancreatitis. Our friend who visited for Hallowe’en also pointed out that Catorze’s belly, which we’d initially believed to be from his increased appetite, looked more distended than fat. 

    So, yesterday, we took Catorze back to the vet. The vet echoed what our friend had said, and confirmed that the podgy belly wasn’t weight gain from too much food. Poor Catorze was so bloated that she couldn’t even really examine his belly properly, and she added that his shallow breathing with his belly puffing out at the sides also wasn’t normal. 

    Cat Daddy and I felt absolutely awful. We were all ready to be told off for overfeeding him, but we really weren’t expecting this at all. The little sod has gone from 2.61kg to 3.3kg in the space of a month, but not in a good way, it seems.

    Catorze’s blood tests ended up revealing nothing that we didn’t already know (slightly elevated kidney markers but everything else normal), so the next step is to take him for an X-ray and scan. We hope that these will give us some answers. 

    Please take your furry overlords to the vet if anything like this happens to them. Take it from us: if they chub up, they’re supposed to do it a little bit all over, not just in one place on the body. We know this now, and we won’t be making this mistake again. 

    In his transportation pod, and highly displeased about this.

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

  • Une trilogie française 

    Towards the end of September, I bought myself a set of glass pumpkin lights. (They actually ended up being a bit shit and the seller refunded me, but that’s another story.)

    Me, to Cat Daddy, as I was unpacking them from their box: “Don’t throw this box away, will you?”

    Him: “What do you want it for?”

    Me: “After Hallowe’en I want to pack these pumpkins back in their box to store them.”

    Him: “Ohhhhh.”

    Me: “What?”

    Him: “I thought you were going to say you wanted the box for HIM. You know, when he goes.”

    This time it was my turn for the Unrepeatable Expletives. But, since then, things happened which very nearly made this a reality. I remember how soulless Le Château felt without Louis Catorze, and fearing that we wouldn’t get another week with him, never mind another Hallowe’en. Yet the little sod is on great form, eating, screaming and being a massive pain in the arse. We don’t understand how he’s gone from being at death’s door in late September, to this. But we’ll take it.

    Cat Daddy: “Well, I should hope he IS still with us, after we spent £1800 on him last month.” (He felt much better when I reminded him that it was actually only £1600.)

    My expectations for an Official Hallowe’en Portrait this year were quite low. Yet not only did the little sod deliver, but there was only one outtake. This is the final, cropped version: 

    That’ll do, cat. That’ll do.

    And this is the original version, showing the unsightly, scuffed-up stair runner which I originally wanted to hide. Cat Daddy prefers this version because both the artist and the “art” are visible:

    That won’t do at all.

    Better yet, I received an actual Catorzian portrait for my birthday, from Cocoa, Chanel and their humans:

    They have captured the monofanged look perfectly. (The other is still there, just concealed under the floppy cheek/jowl.)

    So, this October, the little sod has THREE OFFICIAL HALLOWE’EN PORTRAITS. 

    Joyeuse Hallowe’en à tous. Please hug your furry overlords, because our time with them is never as long as we want. 

    Rodan posed for his Portrait this week. Yes, he just lay there whilst the kids put leaves on him.

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

  • Les glaçons royaux

    Oh. Mon. Dieu. Blue the Smoke Bengal’s mamma has given me some French cat ice cubes: 

    I imagine they’re meant for making drinks for us but I will, of course, mostly be using them for Louis Catorze’s ice cube massages when summer comes around again. 

    However, thinking ahead to Hallowe’en and wondering how I can safely turn them black for our seasonal cocktails without making anyone sick or dead, I have been experimenting with activated charcoal and black coffee. And the combination of the two has yielded some quite acceptable results:

    Not bad.

    Cat Daddy has very gallantly agreed to give up his time to help me test them in a cocktail or six this Hallowe’en, and I might even join him. This is our favourite Hallowe’en recipe (although we skip the biscuits). 

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

  • Je ne sais pas ce que j’ai vu

    Last summer I started reading “I Know What I Saw”, a book about modern-day cryptid sightings, and I didn’t quite get around to finishing it. The approach of Hallowe’en made me pick it up again to resume reading, I realised that the next chapter was about creepy cats. Imagine that. 

    It seems to be that most creepy cat sightings seem to involve those much larger than domestic cats, and the same description seems to weave through many of the eyewitness accounts: muscular bodies, rope-like tails and blistering speed. 

    However, in terms of colour, all seem to be either tan or black. Nothing in-between, no other colours, just those two. Furthermore, the cats of one of those colours are generally regarded as flesh-and-blood animals, not yet known to the world of science. The ones of the other colour, however, are believed to be spiritual entities not of this world, carriers of messages of doom. 

    I’ll leave you to conclude which is which. 

    Meanwhile, here is Louis Catorze in a few bizarre yet genuine photos which make me even more sure that he belongs in The Second Category:

    What the heck.
    What the heck!
    WHAT THE HECK!

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

  • Chaque pas est un but

    Do you set personal goals for yourself?

    I was about to say that Louis Catorze’s one personal goal is to do what he wants, irrespective of any upset or offence caused to others.

    However, goal-setting is what people do to better themselves, and Catorze already thinks he is perfect as he is. So it’s a firm no to any suggestions of needing self-improvement.

    “Non.”

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

  • Avec une télécommande, on vit heureux 

    One of Louis Catorze’s favourite things to do is step on the TV remote and either change channels or switch the TV to the home screen. 

    He has probably done this about 784 times in the time that we’ve known him, so it’s certainly nothing unusual. If we are doing something he doesn’t like, or watching something that we really DO like, we know that he will pounce. It’s as predictable as day following night (although this probably means that we ought to have found a way of preventing it by now). 

    However, Cat Daddy has noticed that, whenever Catorze does it and takes us back to the home screen, we are not able to replicate this ourselves without multiple clicks of the remote. Catorze seems to be able to do it with just one step. Whatever it is that he does, it would actually be quite handy for us to know it so that we can do the same, the next time we need to return to the home screen quickly. But, of course, the bastard cat isn’t saying. 

    Cat Daddy: “I’m telling you, it’s some psycho thing. He does it with his MIND.”

    Right. I don’t suppose we can compete with that even under normal circumstances, but in October we are especially powerless. 

    An old picture from 2024, of our TV. Just a TV. Nothing more.

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

  • Mon cœur qui bat 

    We have just discovered that we can see Louis Catorze’s heartbeat through his bald, shaved chest.

    Naturellement, the first time we noticed it, we had perfect lighting and a perfect angle, and it was very clear, but we didn’t have our phones handy. We have tried to recreate those same conditions about 962 times and failed. 

    This is our least shit attempt. It’s very subtle but, if you zoom in, you can see it pulsing:

    “It breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its chest.”

    Yes, it turns out that the little sod actually has a heart. Nobody is more surprised about this than the two of us. 

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

  • Le bizarre incident du chat pendant la nuit (Partie 2)

    I am not impressed with Louis Catorze. Yesterday morning I was an hour and three-quarters late with his breakfast*, and the little shit absolutely destroyed my forearm with his digging and scratching. Yes, this is the same cat who is ambivalent about food. For goodness’ sake.

    *In my defence it was my birthday the day before, and I’d had eight shots of vodka after barely drinking all year.

    In other news: oh. Mon. Dieu. Remember when Catorze kept me awake by thrashing around in a plastic bag, and I couldn’t understand why I was unable to locate the bag? 

    Well, it turns out that there was no plastic bag. In actual fact the sound came from an old picture, wrapped in bubble wrap, which was standing in a corner of the room, propped up against a wall and hidden by a folded-up duvet cover. Obviously it wasn’t hidden well enough, because the bastard cat had located it and was trying to break through the bubble wrap. 

    He has previous when it comes to this kind of behaviour. The last time was much worse, but he hasn’t really done it since on account of us not having bubble wrap lying around. Now we know that we have to keep it away from him, adding another tiresome task to the already-long list of tiresome tasks that we have to do because of him.

    As you can see, the little sod is deeply regretful of all the bother he has caused. Doesn’t this picture just scream “deep regret”? 

    Dreaming of bubble wrap.

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

  • Je mange, donc je suis

    In the dining room sits a box of canned cat food, all of which Louis Catorze has rejected over time. For ages I’ve been meaning to pass it onto a more grateful cat but, a few days ago, Cat Daddy accidentally gave one to Catorze, thinking it were his current supply, and the little sod ate it. 

    He didn’t just eat it hesitantly; he devoured it, as if he hadn’t been fed for a thousand years. And then he wanted more. And more. AND MORE. 

    Cat Daddy, very helpfully: “He doesn’t like having the same flavour day in and day out. He wants VARIETY.”

    I wouldn’t usually recommend constantly giving food to a cat just because they ask for it, but Catorze was pitifully haggard after his pancreatitis. So we just kept going and gave him as much as he wanted. On one notable day he ate four cans of wet food, plus a good couple of servings of Orijen, and he looks so much better for it, chubbing up like a good ‘un. (Mind you, who wouldn’t chub up with an unlimited supply of food and a pair of suckers who bring it to you every time you stare or scream?) 

    Fat boy.

    I really hope this is a sign that we have turned a corner regarding his health. 

    Here he is, sitting in a most ungainly, asymmetric position, looking more like a fat tarantula than a cat, waiting for his third – or maybe fourth, we’ve lost count now – dinner: 

    What is happening with that leg?

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

  • Le bol effrayant 

    Merci à Dieu: Louis Catorze’s antibiotic course is over. Towards the end I had developed an almost-foolproof knack for applying the liquid: instead of probing around inside his ears, of which he was not a fan, I, erm, turned them inside out. Unbelievably, they stayed like that whilst I was able to wipe them then, when I was done, he just flicked them the right way around again.

    In other news, I have bought Catorze a Hallowe’en present and, as you can see from his face, he absolutely loves it: 

    “Merci, salope.”

    Cat Daddy: “He won’t be using it for long.”

    I expect he means that the Spooky Season is relatively short-lived and, before we know it, it will be time to deploy the Yuletide bowl. (I haven’t bought one yet, but I’m working on it.)

    This is what he means, isn’t it?

    It is a thing of beauty, non?

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

  • Vis à la campagne pour toi, au lieu de vivre à la ville pour les autres

    I would like to move out to a rural area one day, later in life. Cat Daddy would probably do so now if he could, and he says that the only thing stopping him is the thought of a bird of prey picking off Louis Catorze, having mistaken him for a largeish rat or ferret or some such thing. 

    I always used to laugh this off. However, Cat Daddy showed me a post from our local neighbourhood social media group, which has (sort of) proven his fears to be correct. 

    The lady who had posted lived in a suburban area, and her cat was having a nap outside when a red kite swooped. Luckily, when he moved, the bird realised that its prey was actually alive – and, since red kites apparently favour dead prey, this was a huge NON. So it aborted its plan, and the cat lived to nap another day. 

    Catorze’s fondness for napping outside, along with his past history for pissing off the avian contingent, mean that country living is probably not a great idea. If crows can tell their friends all about humans who have wronged them, surely parakeets and magpies can pass a message to their neighbouring birds of prey? He wouldn’t be a very filling snack, but he’d be pretty easy pickings. 

    Here is Catorze, having a little rest in what used to be a herb trough but now isn’t (because of him).

    A sandwich short of a picnic.

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

  • L’oreille est le chemin du coeur (Partie 2) 

    Tell us about your morning routine.

    Mornings used to be my favourite part of the day: exercise, breakfast, coffee, then read a book with Louis Catorze on my lap. 

    Now, however, they’re absolute shit on wheels. I knew that giving Catorze his antibiotics would be grim, but dear God. 

    Half the battle is catching the little sod to do the deed. Because I need to apply the liquid to the gauze before grabbing him, the smell alerts him to the fact that something is afoot. Plus the gauze is hard to hide in my hand, so he absconds when he sees it. Therefore I need to prepare the gauze in another room, then leave it there (to stop the smell from spreading) and go and look for him. Bringing a cat to a piece of gauze, rather than taking the gauze to the cat, makes no sense, yet that’s the way it has to be. 

    And that’s the easy part. 

    Wiping his ears with the gauze is quite the most horrific thing I have ever had to do to Catorze. He screams, writhes and kicks. Bits of indescribable crud come off his ears and onto the gauze, sometimes even dropping all over me. And, when the horror is over with one ear, I need to do it again with the other. 

    Thank God and all his angels above that this is only for a week, and today is Day Four which means that we’ve done most of it. And, best of all, Catorze’s ears have lost the Maine Coon look and are starting to look normal again, so he will be his usual chic self when Hallowe’en comes around. 

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