La paix, la justice, la liberté

Because all cats are selfish users by nature, it’s not uncommon for them to lead a double life with another unsuspecting family. However, despite Louis Catorze’s recent daredevil escapology, I didn’t expect his other life to be this:


That’s him at the bottom, happily nibbling on a plant whilst the murderers, gang members and drug traffickers of the Porto Velho penitentiary go about their daily prison business around him. And, yes, I am aware that most black cats look very similar to one another. But if you live with one – and especially if it’s a troublemaker – you know your own. The miniature size, the pose, the casual chewing of plant matter with the intention of puking it up later in some inappropriate place … this is all classic, unmistakable Louis Catorze. And we all know of his tendency to gravitate towards men. What’s less clear is how the flip he managed to get all the way to Brazil. (He speaks English, French and the odd swear word in dog and bird language, but no Portuguese.)

Cat Daddy: “Are you kidding? He can escape outside at The Front in broad daylight without being seen. He can break into locked rooms and cupboards and re-lock the door after himself. Of course he could make it out to Brazil and still get back in time to wake us up screaming at dawn.”

This is true. 

The only other question we have is which way Catorze’s prison gang allegiance has swung: has he made himself the kingpin of the Comando Vermelho or the Primeiro Comando da Capital? Given his extraordinary capacity to incite barking wars between Oscar the dog and (now sadly departed) Bert the dog and then smugly sit back and watch the fallout, I’d say that he has probably managed to fuel even more hatred between the two gangs whilst remaining annoyingly impartial* himself. In fact, I’d be prepared to bet Le Château on at least 80% of the riots in Porto Velho being his fault. 

*Not giving a merde about either faction 

One day his pot-stirring will he found out, and I don’t suppose the inmates will be too happy about it. In the meantime, it’s probably just as well that he has Le Château as a bolt-hole and us to take care of him. 

11 thoughts on “La paix, la justice, la liberté

  1. Had a neighbor cat years ago that made rounds of the neighborhood each day, nibbled a bit of food at each place people had cats they fed outdoors and his own home across the street. Everyone knew Louie! Louie made our patio his home base year around, even though his people created a warm shelter with cat access in their garage that, to my best knowledge, he never visited except for food or water. His sister, Callie, and he were incompatible, so it may be his choice of homebase – our patio – had something to do with that.

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      1. Whoops! His name was Woodie, not Louie. I was thinking (apparently) of my own kitty, Louie, another tabby cat of large size and personality. Louie, however, was a cool cat, and he was named after another cool cat, Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong. Louie died in 2011from lymphoma; Woodie died a few years before that with a strange condition his veterinarian owner never came across – his longs somehow got twisted and he suffocated. Gad! You don’t have to watch the whole thing to get a sense of Louie:

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