Louis Catorze is strutting around Le Château with some swagger. He’s alert, happy and in fine voice. (Non-Brits, “in fine voice” is just an expression. There is nothing fine about his voice.)
He also appears to be gaining weight. And so he should, given that we are feeding him unlimited quantities of a food that is better than anything we’ve ever eaten ourselves and more expensive than gold and crystal meth combined.
Since he loves his food, as opposed to just liking it, feeding him is a completely different experience and is probably starting to resemble what life would be like with a normal cat. Previously, I would serve his food and he would keep his distance as the pellets hit his bowl. Then he would wander over, sniff it, eat a couple of pellets and walk away, saving the rest for later.
This is the experience at present:
⁃ Waking me at a ridiculous time of the morning
⁃ Circling my feet like a hungry shark as I open the Orijen packet
⁃ Rearing up on his hind legs and putting his front paws on my legs as I pour the food into his bowl
⁃ More screaming
⁃ Leaping onto his food the minute I step away, and even sometimes clearing his plate in one sitting
⁃ More screaming and creepy staring at various intervals throughout the day, to request more food
⁃ Late-night screaming at Cat Daddy for more food
The last of the above is so severe that I can hear it from upstairs, and I am starting to wonder whether Catorze deliberately waits until late as Cat Daddy’s portion-measuring is, erm, less accurate after a few wines.
I am just grateful that he’s eating SOMETHING. Cat Daddy, however, is still not over the fact that the little sod chose the most expensive food there is, and the fact he is shovelling it down at such a rate just adds insult to injury.
Here is Le Roi, not really giving a merde about what we think: