This week I left the front door open by accident after putting out some recycling. Louis Catorze, without so much as a blink, seized the opportunity to escape out at The Front – YES, AGAIN – and, when Cat Daddy went to shut the door, he found the little sod screaming at a random passer-by in the street.

Now, of the 835 occasions that Catorze has caused mayhem in the street, we have probably only been present for a couple. It’s embarrassing enough when That Neighbour escorts him back to Le Château and we have to imagine all the horrific things he’s done whilst out on the rampage. But nothing – je répète, NOTHING – is as mortifying as actually being there. Because not only do people then know that he is our cat, but we are also obliged to Do Something About It.

(And, yes, Cat Daddy did once try to scurry past Catorze in the street, pretending not to know him. But the little sod chased him down like a wolf hunting a rabbit, screaming himself witless, and there was no escape.)

There was a brief conversation between Cat Daddy and the lady, and I heard him say, “Yes, he’s a noisy one, isn’t he?” Then he and Catorze came in, with Cat Daddy rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

He has not spoken about it since, and I have a feeling he never will.

This video was taken mid-February and isn’t of the actual incident – because I wasn’t there, thank God – but I suspect he sounded exactly like this. He’s a noisy one, indeed:

Someone had a massive telling-off from his daddy this week, after disappearing out at The Front and being gone all night.

To make matters worse, Cat Daddy had planned a big bike ride for the next morning and, of course, a poor night’s sleep stressing about an idiot cat isn’t exactly the best preparation for such a thing. The little sod did this on purpose.

I woke up that morning to the sound of faraway screaming, and I knew in an instant that Louis Catorze was out at The Front. Sure enough, when I opened the front door, he dashed in, bellowing indignantly, then headed straight for his glass of water.

I called up to Cat Daddy to let him know that he’d dropped the ball again (because he was the one who’d been on Late Shift after I‘d gone to bed), and he replied, “Thank God!” Then came the full story of the previous night’s fiasco:

Usually, if we sit in the front room with the window open, we can keep an eye on Catorze as he sits on the window sill and surveys his royaume. However, that night, very unusually, he’d decided to do a runner and hide.

Cat Daddy went out twice with his torch during the early hours of that morning, peering into neighbours’ gardens and bins – all the while fully aware that such behaviour usually results in the police being called – but there was no sign of Catorze. Now, if you’re at The Front at that time of the night/morning and a member of your family is out there looking for you, you cannot possibly be unaware of it. Unless, of course, you are a horrid little shite who is deliberately trying not to be found.

Eventually, at 1:25am, Cat Daddy came home empty-handed and went to bed. He usually sleeps very well but he had a terrible night, wondering if every sound was Catorze in distress and mentally planning the distribution of the “Missing” posters.

Anyway, by some miracle Sa Maj actually hadn’t bothered any of the neighbours during his overnight jaunt, although Cat Daddy sleepily overheard “an exchange of some sort” when the Abel and Cole parcel came at around 7am, and he now wonders if perhaps Catorze had accosted the delivery man. And we have agreed that our boy now needs a Front Curfew: 10pm on normal nights, possibly earlier on troublesome nights such as Friday 13th, Hallowe’en or a full moon.

This is worse than being the parents of a wayward teenager.

*EDIT: The night that we agreed the curfew time, Catorze actually returned of his own accord through the front window at 9:57pm. Cat Daddy and I found this satisfying yet also creepy beyond belief.

A few nights ago, Louis Catorze escaped out at The Front. Again.

He isn’t allowed to be there unsupervised, as you know, but, if we are sitting in the front room and can keep an eye on him through the open window, it’s not so bad. He happily sits on the wall outside, watching the world go by, and comes in when he’s ready. (There’s no point in trying to catch him because he won’t be caught.)

And he appears to have stopped his habit of going to That Neighbour’s house, repeatedly activating their security lighting and screaming outside their window, which is a relief to everyone (but especially to their family).

That night, Cat Daddy opened the window and chatted to a family member on Zoom whilst waiting for Catorze to return. When I went in to say goodnight, I asked him whether he was sober enough to remember to close the window before going to bed.

Cat Daddy’s family member, via the Zoom call: “No, he’s not. He’ll forget. If I were you, I’d shut it yourself.”

Me: “Is Louis in or out?”

Cat Daddy: “Who gives a shit?”

I closed the window and went to bed, but I couldn’t get to sleep without knowing that our boy was safe. When I heard Cat Daddy turning off the lights downstairs, I called down to him and asked him to check The Front one more time because I feared that the little sod might be out there.

Cat Daddy: “I don’t think he’s even there. He’s probably at The Back.”

Me: “Please would you check anyway?”

Cat Daddy: “[Indiscernible muttering]”

I heard him unlock the front door and call Catorze’s name. That was the moment I learned that it’s actually possible to say someone’s name in a sarcastic manner. It sounds nonsensical but, trust me, he did it.

I then heard pitter-pattering, and a “Mwahhhh!” before the door closed.

Cat Daddy: “HAPPY NOW?”

Me: “Louis is safe. And I was right and you were wrong. So I’m very happy, thanks for asking.”

[Silence, tumbleweed, crickets]

Anyway, Cat Daddy has since reinvented that story with some savage editing to make me look like the negligent party; according to his version, I shut the window leaving poor Catorze trapped outside and he was the one who rescued him. If I contest it, he says, “Is that not what happened? Go on, deny it.”

Le Roi knows the truth. But he’s not snitching on his papa.

A few days ago my friend Laura, whom I hadn’t seen since before lockdown and who also has a French cat, came by for a doorstep chat.

Louis Catorze was asleep in his box when she arrived (yes, the one labelled “Cats are not permitted to sit inside this box”) but he came out to greet her. He purred, flirted, nuzzled and rolled as if welcoming a long-lost friend, and I was so proud to have such a well-mannered boy.

My pride didn’t last long.

Shortly afterwards, Blue the Smoke Bengal and his mamma also came out to say hello and, whilst Laura was delighted to have double the cat value for her visit, Catorze let the side down rather badly by cornering Blue in That Neighbour’s garden and meowing in his face. Then the pair of them just sat there, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

I had dreadful visions of trying to retrieve one or other little sod and That Neighbour coming out of his house at precisely that moment, wanting to know why I was scrambling undignifiedly among his plant pots. And I didn’t dare leave them unsupervised in case a fight broke out and That Neighbour ended up having to escort TWO miscreant cats off his premises instead of just one. (Yes, he does know both cats by sight. And, yes, he also knows where they live.)

So I just stood by uselessly and did nothing at all.

Luckily both cats decided to end their deadlock and return home, and That Neighbour is none the wiser. But I am, once again, mystified as to why Catorze would be disagreeable towards a cat who appears to want to be friends with him. This must be exactly what it’s like to have the awful kid whom nobody likes, and who is only invited to parties because the other parents are trying to be polite. If he were our human kid we’d be making him write a letter of apology right now, denying him his supper until he wrote it like he meant it.

Laura took this photo during the stand-off, and you can just about make out Blue’s rear end among the plant pots behind him.

Laura thinks the little sod looks cute. I think he looks creepy as hell and not remotely like someone I’d want as a friend.