Le mal résident

There is a new némésis in town, and Louis Catorze is not pleased about this at all.

I know: when you’ve pissed off almost every animal you’ve ever met, the last thing you need is another enemy, right? But our mutual friend has, for whatever reason, decided that adding one more to his portfolio would be a good idea.

A couple of nights ago, the little sod was happily having a wash on the living room floor when he suddenly stopped, jumped up onto the shutters and started swishing his tail. Now, usually, when Catorze swishes his tail, it’s good news. (I know, I know, this is not remotely typical of normal cats, but that’s Catorze for you.) However, when his tail is swishing AND puffed, Armageddon is nigh. And that is exactly what we saw that night.

After a minute or so of puffed swishing, Catorze’s noises started. Oh. Mon. Dieu. There was classic Hallowe’en cat yowling. There was hissing. And there was … ringing snorting. Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: cats can snort, and snorts can ring. Imagine the sounds that the Jurassic Park velociraptors make when they call to each other, and you will have an idea of what we heard.

Cat Daddy and I were in such shock that we didn’t think at all to record what we were seeing. Instead, I went to investigate the cause of Catorze’s fury, praying that it would be a normal animal and not a chupacabra or a Sasquatch or some such thing. Sitting on the wooden planter at The Front, staring up at Catorze, was a never-seen-before tuxedo tabby, with a collar and a bell.

I went out to shoo him off but he returned afterwards, resulting in even more chilling noises from Catorze. Eventually Cat Daddy had to pluck him down from the top of the shutters, but this didn’t really help much since it was Catorze’s creepy kitty sixth sense, and not his eyes, that had informed him of the intruder’s presence. So Cat Daddy had to go outside and shoo him off for a second time.

This is not good. I feel very uneasy that this cat is much larger than Catorze (mind you, who isn’t?), and that we clearly cannot trust Catorze to be the, erm, bigger person and not start any trouble should they meet. But what can we do about it?

Anyway, whatever we do or don’t do, Sa Maj couldn’t give a hoot. Here he is, daring all comers to do their worst, and I fear that this is extended to all creatures, living, dead and undead:

What he lacks in size, he more than makes up in fightiness.

16 thoughts on “Le mal résident

  1. Did the tux holler back, or was it all Catorze ? The relative size may not mean much in a fight, so you and Cat Daddy must be on alert. Luckily it doesn’t sound like a silent attack is one of your worries.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. So far, we have hosted only one cat which protected her land. She was grey and white and very small.
    One day, she behaved like Louis against a Rottweiler which had entered our garden. Fortunately for all of us, she was behind a French window when she saw the dog and as I knew the intruder which was a good dog, I could walk it back home.

    Liked by 1 person

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