J’adore mes invités

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This weekend Louis Catorze had another visit from one of his many internet admirers. Cat Daddy rolled his eyes when I told him of this lady’s impending arrival. “Not because I mind people coming,” he said, “but because it must be such a massive anti-climax for them when they see Louis.”

Excuse-moi?

“They’re probably too polite to say, ‘We came all the way here for THIS?'” he continued. “And I don’t suppose it’s possible for them to post a message on the forum warning others not to bother coming, without you reading it too. So there’s going to be a perpetual stream of people coming, feeling disappointed and then leaving. Like being trapped in an eternal cycle of samsara without ever reaching nirvana.”

At this point I had to Google what the heck he was on about, hoping to catch him out by saying, “Actually, samsara is Hindu but nirvana is Buddhist” or some such thing but, annoyingly, he appeared to have got it right.

I told Cat Daddy that everyone who had visited Louis Catorze thus far had found him nothing but delightful (although this is probably because, when he’s feeling unwell and anti-social, I don’t have people round). “In that case, we should give everyone something to make their pilgrimage worthwhile,” Cat Daddy said. “Like those rosaries and trinkets that they sell at Lourdes. I think it would be hilarious to arm all the cat freaks in London with Louis Catorze stuff.”

Ok, so … you think people would be disappointed by our cat so, to compensate them, you wish to give them a keepsake of said disappointing cat? A keepsake in the style of a SAINTLY RELIC? There is no logic whatsoever in that, yet I do agree that it would be funny. A little creepy, and the kind of thing that some sort of subversive cult leader would do, but also funny.

So I shall happily take suggestions from Le Roi’s followers: what sort of merchandise would make you feel adequately recompensed for an “anti-climactic” trip to TW8? Fridge magnets? Key rings? Prayer candles? Do please reply and let us know. And, if you have already visited him, don’t worry: retrospective gifts can be sent to you so that you don’t miss out, even if you have come from overseas.

Oh my. So one day Louis Catorze is washing his arse and puking on the floor, and the next he’s being deified. No doubt this would seem weird to most but, when it comes to him and his ridiculous life, tout est possible.

Je dîne, donc je suis

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We had an early morning miracle today. Whilst I was pouring Louis Catorze’s biscuits into his plate, he heard the sound from wherever he was and came running. This has never, EVER happened.

This is a cat who doesn’t like food. By that I don’t mean particular food, human food or whatever: I mean food, full stop. It’s made training him to do things pretty much impossible as we can’t use food as an incentive, and anyone who heard me talking about the infamous Cat Flap Diaries last year will confirm that enticing him through the cat flap with some nice fish just wasn’t feasible.

When others speak of 5am alarm calls, or being unable to eat certain foods unless they stand on a chair in the middle of the room or lock their cats away, it’s like an alien world to me. My boy lies patiently with us until we get up and, when we do, he tends not to go for his plate first thing. And I can leave any food anywhere, knowing that he won’t go near it. In fact, sometimes I put my dinner on the floor and leave the room, just because I can.

Over the last month or so I’ve been gradually phasing in Louis Catorze’s posh new food. They suggest around 2 weeks in total to change foods but, because my cat is thick, weird AND dislikes food, the slower the better, so he’s only just got onto 100% new food. And, because of my stealthy and barely perceptible mini-increments, the little sod didn’t notice.

I wonder whether it’s the food that has brought about this sudden interest in eating, or whether he has simply remembered that he’s a cat? Which begs the question: what did he think he was before?

La Saison du Chat Noir

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The Season of the Black Cat (not officially a “season” but just something I’ve made up) is well under way; temperatures are slowly dropping, leaves are turning crimson and gold, and black cats are gadding about with irrepressible energy, driving their humans insane. Do they know something is up and that the countdown to their special day – or TWO special days, if you count National Black Cat Appreciation Day for UK kitties on 27th October – has started? Louis Catorze, despite not being the brightest étoile, certainly seems to have picked up on a new wave of energy. Or maybe he’s just being a shit.

This weekend saw the return of Halloweekend, an annual tradition during which my sister and I get together to watch scary films, do Halloween craft things, eat seasonal food and generally make the most of this glorious season. This year was the first Halloweekend at Le Château, so she was excited about coming over and being able to snuggle a real-life black vampire kitty. And, luckily, my dear boy did not disappoint.

After initially keeping his distance due to the double whammy of being medicated AND de-flead – he may be thick, but he knows he is never usually ambushed twice so it took him somewhat by surprise – he pitter-pattered around us as we made pumpkin spice almond milk lattes, nuzzled my sister as she sat cutting out autumn leaves and eventually settled on the sofa with us in the evening. My sister remarked on how his war wound made it easier to pick out his features in a darkened room. “You can orientate yourself by his fight scar,” she said. “Before, you couldn’t tell which end was which.”

We have a packed October ahead of us at Le Château with birthdays, visits from more of Le Roi’s loyal subjects and all sorts of other exciting events, and we are so looking forward to it. If only there were a way to freeze time and make these moments last forever.

Jouez avec moi!

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My boy is looking unbelievably good, with his fight wound (not pictured here as this photo is pre-fight) now looking less like the Eye of Sauron and more like an Indian bindi, and he’s got his little black cat mojo back: he’s affectionate, chirpy and full of beans. Sadly he’s also annoying the crap out of us with the noisy play fuelled by his new-found energy, which starts cranking up just as we’re going to bed and peaks between 3am and 4am. Cat Daddy is so ticked off with him that he’s threatening to shut him out of the bedroom, but he’d only yowl to get in and/or find some bubble wrap from somewhere to make enough noise from elsewhere in the house.

He has always been one to take or leave play but, ever since the lovely toys gifted by our guests from Switzerland, he’s been relentless. He’s somehow learned to request play by flopping next to his toys and making pathetic noises, and he does this several times a day, irrespective of how many times he’s already previously had play. It’s never enough. He has a 3-storey house to pitter-patter about in, scores of gardens at The Back and virtually unlimited play sessions, yet it doesn’t seem to wear him out. Nothing does. Just as our day slowly winds to a close, his seems to start with a huge power surge.

If anyone is reading this and has any suggestions for synchronising our body clocks, please let me know. Or, alternatively, please come and take Le Roi away at 11pm and drop him off again at 7am. Whatever suits you.