Have you read the book – or, if you’re a low-brow pleb like me, seen the film – “We Need To Talk About Kevin”?
The title character is a boy who, throughout his life, is as sweet as a marron glacé to his father but a total monster to his mother, psychologically tormenting her and haunting her nightmares. The book/film culminates in Kevin murdering several of his classmates.
I am still ill. And Louis Catorze still doesn’t give a shit.
HE IS KEVIN.
“I don’t think this is true,” said Cat Daddy, reading this over my shoulder. “Louis can be monstrous with me at times, too.” Ok. That just makes it worse.
We had my cousin and her husband staying with us this weekend and Louis Catorze was all over them, purring, nuzzling and sleeping on their laps. I must admit I was mildly put out, but I thought, “My turn will come later.”
When he came to bed with me last night, I thought that perhaps he had finally sprouted a goutte of feeling for his maman malade. But, the minute I sneezed, he meowed in disdain – yes, he actually VOICED his annoyance – and shuffled further down the bed, away from me.
Normally, when guests leave, they joke about me having to check their bags, such is their temptation to take our delightful little cat with them. This time, however, I was hovering awkwardly around my cousin’s Louis Vuitton and wondering how I could shove the little sod IN.