louiscatorze.com

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.

  • Un massage près avant d’être de meilleur humeur 

    I’ve been doing facial massage for a few months, and I know most of my exercises by heart. However, I have recently started a new set with a new practitioner, so I needed the instructional video to know what I was doing. And, regretfully, the moment that I chose to watch the video coincided with the moment that Louis Catorze decided to [I don’t know what to say here because I still don’t have any words for what he did]. 

    Throughout the video he bounced around, screaming and screaming. At one point he lay across me, with his belly splodging across my phone so that I couldn’t see the screen, which wasn’t very helpful but at least he appeared to have ceased his [whatever it was]. 

    Then a fly entered the room and the whole débâcle started again, this time with additional sound effects from his claws slapping and scraping on the walls as he repeatedly swiped at this fly. 

    The fifteen-minute video was supposed to be a relaxing, tension-releasing experience. Catorze did his utmost to ensure that it was anything but. In fact, I was probably more tense afterwards than before. 

    I have a live video call booked for tomorrow, with both the practitioner and (oh dear God) OTHER PEOPLE. We all know what Catorze is like with video calls (and, in fact, he probably thought this was one, and was trying to sabotage it), so I don’t hold out much hope for it going well. At least, not unless Cat Daddy and I can build that lead-lined underground vault by tomorrow night. 

    Bastard cat. Also, get off my pillow.

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

  • Un bon sommeil

    I have recently taken to sleeping in the back bedroom because it’s much quieter, with less aeroplane noise, and the mattress is more supportive on my bad back. However, during the visit from Louis Catorze’s human cousins, for various reasons, we all did a massive bed switcheroo and I slept in the main front bedroom for three nights. 

    The first thing I learned from the bed switcheroo was that I was right to swap rooms the first time; the back bedroom really is much better. The second thing I learned was that poor old Catorze finds the (higher) front room bed quite a challenge. 

    His difficulty wasn’t in jumping up, but jumping down. Even when I wasn’t watching him do it, I could tell from the sound of his feet hitting the floor that it was problematic. I also heard skidding afterwards, indicating that the landing perhaps wasn’t as controlled as desired. 

    No, I won’t be investing in one of those cat stepladder things (yet), because I simply don’t sleep in the higher bed often enough to make it worthwhile. But I still looked, just for fun. And I’m quite astounded at the huge range of styles and prices available, ranging from £9.66 for two steps hewn from a basic wedge, to £109.99 for a fancy spiral stair version. 

    Right- AND left-facing? Ooh.
    Temu has, quite literally, thousands of these. I chose this screen shot because of the wind-in-the-hair dachshund.
    This company sponsor our football team. Until today I had no idea what they even did, so I have learned something today.

    Don’t worry, Catorze. We’ll be keeping an eye on your creaky old body, and making sure you have whatever you need, as soon as you need it. 

    Lazy boy.

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

  • Manger comme un Roi le matin 

    What is your favourite restaurant?

    Louis Catorze hasn’t been eating much lately, so we really want him to start enjoying dining at home.

    When his post-steroid munchies failed to kick in, I wondered whether to bring back his wet food, to see if that made a difference. The little sod has always been inconsistent with wet food: at first he can’t get enough of it, but this love affair never lasts; over time he goes from loving it to liking it to just finding it satisfactory, eventually stopping eating it altogether. But, after a short break from it, he’s back to being in love again. 

    This frustrates Cat Daddy no end, to the point where, after the last break, he was reluctant to resume it again. He thinks Catorze should either just eat food or not, without arsing around. However, Catorze has been looking so bony recently that Cat Daddy felt sorry for him and, unbelievably, it was he who suggested that we reintroduce the wet food. (Cat Daddy, I mean. Not Catorze.) 

    This made me very happy because I had been thinking about it, too. So much so, in fact, that I had considered ordering anyway and asking The Cool Cat Club to send it in an unmarked box, or at least labelling the box with something boring so that Cat Daddy wouldn’t feel inclined to open it. But we don’t need to bother with any smoke and mirrors nonsense: Le Roi shall have his wet food, and everyone is on board. And the first day was so insane that it needs its own Le Blog post (coming soon).

    Here is Catorze, screaming and screaming for his chicken fillet with duck. When he disappears at the end, it’s to try to lead me to his bowl: 

    “Service is this way, salope.”

    If your cat would like to try The Cool Cat Club’s food, and you and your family fancy being screamed at like this every morning, here is Catorze’s referral link. 

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

  • Avril enchanté 

    Louis Catorze has had a lovely week. Not only has the weather been glorious, but two of his human cousins have been staying with us. Catorze loves his cousins’ visits, especially now that one of them – YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE – has finally grown out of her phase of running after him, screaming, and wrestling him into a headlock. 

    Catorze’s human cousin, aged ten, took this photo of him. The sun orbs make him look a bit Kawaii.

    Catorze spent some time this week relaxing in his human cousins’ room with them. In fact, when any adults went up to investigate the suspicious quiet, we would find them all snuggled up on the bed, watching TV together. Their show of choice was My Cat From Hell, which was surprisingly cheering viewing as it made us realise that our cats are only Moderately Bad, as opposed to The Absolute Worst.

    The delightful weather meant that the outdoor sofa was deployed. During the warmer months, this is one of Catorze’s favourite places to be. 

    He may not have very many springs and summers left, but he seems set to make the most of this one. Here he is, photographed at 7am and having been here all night:

    I don’t know what he was doing all night, but he certainly wasn’t catching that rat.

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

  • Il y a un rat dans mon jardin: qu’est-ce que je vais faire? (Partie 2) 

    Number of hours that Louis Catorze has spent outside since we spotted Le Rat: 9,598. 

    Number of prey actually caught: 1.  

    And, regretfully, it wasn’t the rat. It was a fly. That said, Catorze was super-dramatic about it, felling the hapless insect with great intent as if he were a sabre-toothed tiger taking down a pterodactyl. (Did sabre-toothed tigers even live with pterodactyls? Well, you know what I mean, in any case.) 

    This isn’t the actual fly takedown but it looked exactly like this, against the glass of the patio doors.

    This isn’t great, is it? It’s bad enough that the rat is still at large, but Catorze’s Sweet Sixteen party is just around the corner. We absolutely cannot risk it showing its ratty face in front of all our guests, not to mention the abject embarrassment of Catorze not noticing it. Or noticing it but doing nothing. Actually, which would be worse: incompetence or laziness? 

    We still have a few weeks until the party. Will our venue be given the all-clear by Pest Control? Or should we plan to cater for an extra guest? 

    No, you just relax and let vermin gad about through our property.

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

  • Ni manger, ni vivre (Partie 22)

    What animals make the best/worst pets?

    I don’t know about the best pets, but let me tell you a little story about one of the worst.

    You thought the food palaver was over at Part 21, right? Yup, so did we. 

    Cat Daddy bought some hot-smoked salmon as an Easter holiday treat and, after taking it out of the fridge, he left it on the kitchen worktop to come to room temperature. We know perfectly well that Louis Catorze cannot be trusted around hot-smoked salmon, but we were pretty sure that he wouldn’t try any stupid shit with the two of us sat right there.

    I expect you know where this is going. 

    Cat Daddy and I were engrossed in an episode of Grace, so much so that we took our eyes off the suspect. I don’t know what made me glance over to the worktop but I’m very glad that I did: the little bastard had sprung up there like a silent ninja, and was about to tuck into the salmon.

    Me: “Louis! Arrrgh!”

    Cat Daddy: “[Unrepeatable Expletives of the Worst Kind.]”

    I grabbed Catorze off the worktop and he let out the most awful, guttural growl, the like of which I have never heard before. No, he wasn’t hurt; he was just profoundly affronted. And, when I picked up the salmon to rehouse it in some cat-proof place, the cheeky sod had the temerity to pitter-patter to his plate and wait, assuming that I were about to serve it to him.

    Cat Daddy: “We’re going to have to lock him – or ourselves – away whilst we eat it.”

    Saint Jésus. Has our Easter holiday come to this? Has our LIFE come to this? 

    Hovering expectantly, hoping we will give in.

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

  • Il y a un rat dans mon jardin: qu’est-ce que je vais faire?

    What job would you do for free?

    We have a rat in the garden. It casually ambled past the patio doors when the Dog Family and Blue the Smoke Bengal’s mamma were round for lunch, and every single one of them saw it. 

    Louis Catorze was nowhere to be found at the time. We believe he was asleep in his freezer bag. 

    It’s embarrassing enough having your guests think your property is a manky, rat-infested hovel, but the fact that we have a cat makes it even worse. So the one job which we would really like Catorze to do is the one, bare-minimum job that any cat would be expected to do: fix the bloody rodent problem. 

    Blue the Smoke Bengal would have ended that rat in an instant. However, whilst Catorze has previous when it comes to rat-catching – for instance, the one that he gifted to his chat-sitteur, and the one that traumatised our cleaning lady – both of those were ages ago. He didn’t catch a single rodent in 2025 and I don’t see him doing it now, especially as he is the expert at doing the exact opposite of what we want him to do. 

    Cat Daddy: “He NEEDS to catch that rat. Even if he brings it up to the bedroom, I don’t care. As long as he catches it.” 

    And now I won’t be sleeping ever again. Thanks for that. 

    Come on, Catorze. It’s more important now than ever before for you to do the right thing. 

    It might help if you moved your arse and went outside.

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

  • Un escalier se balaie en commençant par le haut

    How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?

    During the pandemic, we had a stupid rule here in the UK stating that any death within 28 days of contracting COVID would be officially registered as a COVID death. Yes, even if you were hit by a bus. 

    Louis Catorze clearly knew this, because he dedicated an inordinate amount of time to sitting on the stairs in the hope that I’d fall over him. And, every now and again, he remembers his failed mission and tries again, even though, this time, he won’t be able to blame COVID.

    However, six years on, he doesn’t seem to have the tenacity to see it through, and he caves in long before I do. 

    This short photo story illustrates exactly that: 

    “Not moving.”
    “Not moving.”
    “Not moving.”
    “Not moving.”
    “Not moving.”
    “Oh, ok, FINE.”

    When I sent Cat Daddy the photos, this was his response: 

    Rude word blocked out for decency.

    Oh dear. So it seems that not even Catorze’s beloved papa is safe from this. 

    If anything happens to us that looks as if it were an accident, please tell the police that the 2.92kg black cat did it. 

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

  • Le matin, c’est la jeunesse du jour

    What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?

    I am very much a morning person. My energy takes a dip in the afternoon and, by the evening, it’s not really worth trying to engage with me. (People still try, though I wish they wouldn’t.)

    The start of my day is always spent with Louis Catorze; if he’s not badgering me fifty minutes before my alarm goes off, he soon appears when I go downstairs. However, now that we have entered the post-equinox era of brighter mornings – or at least they WERE bright, until the clocks went forward on Sunday – he is often outside. And, yesterday morning, my attention was drawn to the unmistakable, ear-splitting sound of a magpie’s throat-rattle. 

    Oh no. What with Catorze being an old man an’ all, I had half-forgotten his love of altercations with the local wildlife. Regretfully, Catorze had not forgotten. 

    I peered outside to see not one but two magpies, one perched on Family Next Door’s elderberry tree and the other on the telegraph poles behind our houses, cackling away. And Catorze was sat below them, not actually goading them (this time), but it seems that he didn’t need to do so. The mere fact that he was living, breathing and going about his daily business was enough to get them started. 

    So for the spring and summer, at least, the first hour of my day will be spent listening to a a cacophonous corvid chorus, praying that Catorze isn’t responsible, then going to investigate and having my hopes cruelly dashed. 

    I hope that your day starts more gently than mine, although the bar is pretty low so it’s likely that it does.

    Screaming in the grape hyacinth: no idea why this would bother the birds.

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

  • Viens dans les prés, le gai printemps 

    Merci à Dieu: it’s the Easter holidays. This is excellent because I don’t have to think about work for a whole two weeks, but also worrying because I’ll be spending more time with Louise Catorze, who has been absolutely unhinged lately.

    Springtime tomfoolery.

    On the last day of term I switched off my weekday alarm, although I needn’t have bothered: Catorze, despite leaving me alone most mornings for the last three months, happily provided a wake-up service, fifty minutes before my regular alarm would have gone off. 

    I caught him on the kitchen worktop again on the first day of the holidays. He also seems to have resumed his habit of going into the bathroom to get high on the bleach, because Cat Daddy found muddy paw prints on the floor. After muddying them, the little weasel walked across my new white trousers, leaving The Mark of the Beast as he did so: 

    Yuck.

    Meanwhile, on the south coast, Otis seems to have turned his garden into the local feline community centre. Idris, The Cat With The Human Face, is a frequent patron, although he only lives next door and was always around anyway. The bigger surprise is this fluffy newcomer. Who is s/he? And does s/he come in peace?

    Idris, New Kid and Otis decide who will take the minutes of the meeting.
    This looks quite civilised?

    I hope that whatever’s powering them will calm the heck down. That said, there’s a full moon in a couple of days’ time, so I suspect it will only get worse. 

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

  • Où est ma voix?

    What makes you laugh?

    Every so often Louis Catorze loses his voice, most likely from too much screaming. When he tries to make a sound, he barely manages to emit a breathy wheeze. And nothing is more hilarious than this.

    He doesn’t need medical attention, nor does this concern us in the slightest. Obviously if his voice disappeared permanently we would take him to the vet, but have seen this happen plenty of times and it always comes back, usually within minutes. 

    Here is Cat Daddy, trying to engage Catorze in conversation just so that we can laugh at the breathy wheezing. It took some superhuman effort on my part to suppress my giggles enough to hold the camera still: 

    Yes, that meowing at the very start is Cat Daddy.

    It seems that Catorze only has two settings: Screaming and Off. I much prefer one, whereas Cat Daddy, when I asked him, answered without hesitation in favour of the other. 

    I imagine you can guess which one of us likes which? 

    Here’s a screaming sample, so that you can compare properly.

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

  • Un nouveau mode de vie (Partie 14) 

    We have big news here at Le Château: Louis Catorze is now about 0.1% less of an arsehole when we administer his thyroid medication. 

    We still have to employ the stealth attack method; if he knows it’s coming, it won’t work. Cat Daddy usually grabs him for one of their man-to-man chats, holding him on his lap and politely enquiring about the kind of day he’s had. Catorze listens so intently that he doesn’t hear me sneaking up on him brandishing a finger-condom dosed with Methimazole. Sometimes I can even do the job in one swipe without him even knowing it’s happened. 

    It’s still a pain in the arse to do, but it’s far better than having to pin down a writhing, screaming hell-beast. And, since we have to do this twice a day for the rest of his life, we will happily take any scant crumbs of improvement. 

    In his freezer bag, scowling at anyone who tries to get him out.

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

  • Un certain Bleu pénètre votre âme 

    Gorgeous boy.

    I am very sad to have to tell you that Blue the Smoke Bengal is no longer with us. 

    Blue was a stunningly beautiful cat, whose teddy bear appearance belied his murderous heart. No member of the local wildlife was safe from his slasher claws; he counted pigeons, blackbirds, sparrows, blue tits and squirrels among his victims. However, because Blue had such an expansive, sprawling stomping ground, there were probably others, too. Just like the most prolific human serial killers, the actual body count was likely to extend far beyond just the known victims.

    Yet, to humans, Blue couldn’t have been sweeter or more loving. I had a whole collection of photos of him snuggling my nieces and nephews.

    We were lucky enough to see Blue quite often, so we have plenty of happy memories of him. Here are some of my favourites: 

    1. “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.” (This one was actually Louis Catorze’s fault, but never mind.)
    2. “It’s raining food, hallelujah, it’s raining food.”
    3. “Poor beastie, thou maun live!”
    4. “When you chew the herb, it reveals you to yourself.”
    5. “Gorgeous meaty boy.”

    Much, much love to Blue’s mamma. You are welcome here at Le Château anytime that you’re missing cat cuddles. 

    Wherever you are, Blue, we hope you’re this happy.

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

  • Le printemps capricieux

    This handsome chap was my mum’s gardening buddy at the weekend. No, he is not her cat.

    Astronomical spring arrived at the end of last week, and the Spring Zing really is a thing because Louis Catorze has been absolutely insufferable. 

    The little sod has been sleeping in a freezer bag (I KNOW) by day, then doing frenzied parkour, with vocal accompaniment, all over my bed at night. I’m starting to wonder whether the bag is secretly one of those infra-red regenerating saunas, powering him up for his nightly shenanigans. If so, I wish I knew how to inactivate it, but it seems to run from the same inexhaustible power supply as his Cloak of Invisibility.

    The freezer bag, with a bin liner nest to cushion la personne royale.

    The rest of our family cats have also discovered their own individual ways of marking the new season (although none are quite as weird as sleeping in a freezer bag).

    Otis and Roux love being outside, even in the depths of winter, so they couldn’t be more delighted that spring is here, granting them an extension to their usual nightly curfew. Otis likes relaxing in the gentle rays of spring sunshine, whilst his troublemaking sister watches him from afar, wondering whether to attack him now or later.

    She chose later.

    Zelva, erm, hasn’t even noticed that it’s spring. You’ll find her indoors, lounging on a bed or sofa: 

    Comfy, Zelva?

    Mothra also hasn’t noticed that it’s spring, due to still being in solitary, and has mostly been wriggling out of her Cône. So she’ll be remaining in supervised solitary until she can learn to behave or until the vet says Le Cône can come off, whichever comes first.  

    Still Côned, unless she can successfully escape from it (again).

    Rodan may or may not be aware that it’s spring but his focus has been on trying to fraternise with his sister, rather than on what’s going on outdoors. When not breaking the rules, he has been getting acquainted with his new favourite place:

    I’d subscribe to this channel.

    I hope that your furry overlords are all enjoying the new season. I’d love to hear about what they’ve been doing. 

    Matilda, who lives on the other side of the park, is getting her spring on.

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