Le Grand Changement de Nourriture (Plan C Partie 1)

When Louis Catorze decided that he didn’t want to eat Canagan anymore, despite the fact that he’d eaten it perfectly happily for TWO WHOLE WEEKS BEFOREHAND, Cat Daddy and I decided it was time to deploy the Orijen. This was not a decision that we took lightly, given that it would send us spiralling into debt*, but we didn’t know what else to do.

*Here is a comparison, using a dry food pack of around 1.5-1.8kg as a guide:

⁃ Supermarket or commercial brands: approx. £2-3 per kg

⁃ Mid-range but still perfectly decent brands: approx. £7-10 per kg

⁃ Posh brands: approx. £12 per kg

⁃ Orijen Six Fish: £16.66 per kg, +£2 for the Regional Red (red meat) variant, +£4 for the Tundra (game) variant

I could get better value from the massive 5.4kg pack but we don’t have room to store it, and I refuse to buy a bag of cat food that weighs more than my cat. Plus, if anything were to GUARANTEE our mutual friend ceasing to like it, it would be the purchase of a huge pack costing this much:

Good grief.

Anyway … very tentatively, we gave Catorze a dessertspoonful of Orijen without his old food, and we barely drew breath as he approached it.

SAINT JÉSUS: HE ATE IT.

Then he ate another portion. Then he ate two more normal-sized portions. And when Cat Daddy came home from the pub later, Catorze did such a screamy, starey number on him that he drunk-served him a fifth – and most likely enormous – portion.

Cat Daddy’s Helpful Comment of the Day, sent by drunken text that night: “I told you he knew there was better food around. He’s just polished off a whole bowl like some craved [sic] animal who’s never eaten before.”

Be warned, Chat Noir owners: their power is growing. We thought it only happened in October, but it’s started early. Until now, never would I have believed in mind control so intense that it could compel me to buy the most expensive cat food in existence, to pray for said Chat Noir to love it AND to feel pure joy when he did. Catorze is Charles Manson in feline form.

Mind you, by that point I was so worn down by this whole sorry saga that I would have been grateful if he’d eaten asbestos and drain unblocker. And they would have been cheaper.

Smug little sod.

25 thoughts on “Le Grand Changement de Nourriture (Plan C Partie 1)

  1. What a beautiful photo of Catorze! His whiskers particularly stand out–I had not realized before how long they are. They seem like the whiskers of a much longer Cat, nay a Panther! Do you suppose Louis believes he is as wide as his whiskers are long? That could explain a lot, in addition to the fact that you named him le roi soleil.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Yay, something is working, I am happy for you all 😀 Yesterday, I made a potato salad with a LOT of vinegar and shallots and dill and pickles in it, and Miss Penny started eating it… You and I have the weirdest cats in the universe!!

    Liked by 1 person

        1. Le Roi’s big brother Luther was the same. He would always pester me when I was cooking, so I’d give him some truly vile stuff “to teach him a lesson” and that backfired spectacularly. 🤣

          Liked by 1 person

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