I have settled into a rather pleasant summer holiday routine, as follows:
1. Wake up when I want.
2. Bid good morning to Louis Catorze who, more often than not, is lying at my feet.
3. Make a pot of green tea.
4. Fashion a Trojan Horse amuse-bouche consisting of tuna rillettes surrounding a steroid pill, and watch with pure joy as greedy Catorze gobbles it up.
5. Watch horror movies or read books with the little sod on my lap until Cat Daddy wakes up.
Regretfully, Reflets de France tuna rillettes contain three huge baddies: wheat, sugar and butter. I know. However, anyone who has ever tried to Greco a writhing, yowling, hostile shite of a cat will understand. We would happily feed the little sods molten lava and strychnine if it meant they would just eat the pill and not give us any grief.
What’s more, getting one over on Catorze and having him think I’m giving him a treat when, in fact, it’s a pill, brightens my day more than I ever thought possible. Every time he eats one, an angel gets his wings.
Bon appétit, mon Roi.