La limace

In true Catorzian style, despite the happiness of yesterday it seems we have crashed to an all-time low here at Le Château: at around 1am, Louis Catorze decided to bring in a live slug and deposit it on my pillow as I slept. What kind of individual DOES this?

Cat Daddy, waking up and almost rupturing his internal organs as he stifled his laughter, helpfully informed me that “it could have been worse”. NO, IT COULD NOT. Except, perhaps, for a worm falling out of Catorze’s arse – which I actually thought this was at first, until the cold temperature of its body reassured me (if, indeed, one can be “reassured” by such a thing) – there is very little that is worse than touching something cold and jelly-like in the middle of the night, then discovering that it is a pulsing, writhing slug.

I may never recover from this. Here’s Louis Catorze, not really giving a shit whether I do or I don’t:


12 thoughts on “La limace

  1. I love that face…he’s so proud and those are the best, most beautiful and “happy cheeks” I’ve ever seen. The fact that it was delivered to your pillow, means certainly that it’s a gift, as he endured the transport of such a thing in his mouth for some distance, it’s quite a little gift of devotion. They just think differently than we do.

    Sorry to say, for your sake, that I did laugh.


  2. “But Mama! Its a special gift of love for you.” (It could be worse. I got one that brings me almost-dead-but-still-twitching spiders as love gifts). And they are usually large and either hairy or poisonous. If that ain’t love…


      1. She is 10 yrs old and has lived her whole life indoors. She also plays fetch. Wish I could share a pic of Miss Cricket. Her hunt-gift instincts are not satisfied by chasing her toys though and after a mild Oklahoma winter the spider population explodes so I like the kitties playing with the house spiders to death just wish I didn’t have to find these presents under my feet- or like you- in my bed.


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