Every now and again, when Cat Daddy and I want to relax in front of something mindless and unchallenging, we watch Celebrity Hunted. If you haven’t seen it, celebrities team up and “disappear” in the U.K. and, the longer they can stay hidden, the more money they raise for charity. This particular series features two athletes, an actress, a musician, a drag queen and a girl from Essex whom we presume to be a reality TV star or a YouTuber or some such thing.
Cat Daddy and I often marvel at the stupid things they do to give away their whereabouts, such as calling friends and family (their phones are monitored) or letting random members of the public take pictures with them and upload them to social media (also monitored); we are pretty certain that, if we ever took part in this show, we would be cleverer than that.
However, we are mere amateurs compared to Louis Catorze. It’s time to give Catorze his flea medication. And, naturellement, the little sod is nowhere to be found.
I have to hand it to him: for a not-especially-intelligent cat, he is good at vanishing. A few years ago we made Disco the dog’s folks go searching for him in their shed in the middle of a storm, when he turned out to be somewhere in Le Château – we still don’t know where – all along. He has also been known to go missing at The Front, right after chasing down the Ocado delivery driver, and on many occasions we have debated whether or not to call the driver and ask him to check the back of his van. Luckily he has always reappeared but, again, we don’t know from where.
Cat Daddy and I still can’t find Catorze, but I’m hopeful that one of us will soon utter the magic words: “I have eyes on the fugitive!”