Cat Daddy and I are in the Outer Hebrides. Louis Catorze would have loved the ferry from the mainland; firstly, they have priority seating for pet owners and, secondly, it’s right next to the men’s toilets:
They are right about the trip hazard, too; Catorze would be weaving in and out of men’s feet, purring and rolling, if he were here.
Before leaving Glasgow, we took a walk along the Clydeside Expressway and were lucky enough to come across this beauty:
Meanwhile, back in London, these were the scenes at the château of Catorze’s cat-cousin King Ghidorah recently. Might I add that my sister and her family have one (1) cat:
Hang on a second … this all seems remarkably déjà vu, doesn’t it?
*Checks back through previous Le Blog entries*
IT IS. I posted these very words in April. Same shit, different cat.
This time the impinger is a known one, called Samba, and he lives down the street from Château Ghidorah. Whenever my sister mentions him, I cannot help but hear Samba de Janeiro, by Bellini, in my head. And, now, so will you. If you’re a football fan you will recognise it as the song that Norwich City play whenever they score, although it didn’t have much airtime last season and, as a result, Norwich have since been relegated.
Regretfully, relations between King Ghidorah and Samba are all a bit Brazil-Venezuela, as you can see:
Samba’s humans have had him for six weeks of which they have been letting him out for three, and this seems to me like a short time of house arrest. Not that I’m in a position to criticise as we let out Louis Catorze’s big brother, Luther, after a few days. Well, I say “let out” but in actual fact he escaped, managing to bypass our supposedly impenetrable airlock system. And, on reflection, the fact that we were outsmarted is far more shameful than just being plain irresponsible.
However, Luther knew where his home was. Samba doesn’t. Or perhaps – and this is far more likely – he knows exactly what he’s doing, but just doesn’t care.
Here is Samba, reminding me of another famous namesake: Brice Samba, who plays for Nottingham Forest and who is also known for wasting people’s time and taking the piss.
jesuisleroisoleil 
Your sister is definitely a good cat hostess.
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Yup, she’s feeding and sheltering pretty much the whole neighbourhood. 🤣
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Loved this post! It was a good way to start my morning, with an espresso in one hand, of course, (sorry, no whiskey for this Cat Daddy…). Beautiful photographs and fun facts but hey, what is that dog doing on that sign…?? 😉
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It was Dog City on the ferry. There were heaps of them! 🐕
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When Peter, also known as Rourou, enters our place to empty Timon’s plate, the latter stays mute and watches him operating without any emotion.
😺
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That’s hilarious!
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Finding out my comment was published twice is not hilarious at all, but I guess you weren’t talking about that. 😀
For some reason, since the beginning of the week, I have been asked a password and when I give it, my comment vanishes, hence yesterday’s second try.
Therefore, can you forgive that sorry duplication? Thanks.
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Was it duplicated? I just thought my reply somehow hadn’t posted. Signal comes and goes here in the Scottish Highlands.
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The signal is likely to do the same when crossing the North Sea.
😺
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Well, at lwast there was no bloodshed. Though the leather seats of the kitchen chairs seem to have taken a bit of a hit.
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Ha, I think our childhood cats might have been the ones who did that!
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Miss Penny says “bon voyage!” and goes back to sleep. She was a bit scared when I screamed when I hurt my hand, and that must have exhausted her so now she’ll just sleep for a few days to recover 😉
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Merci! How are you feeling now?
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Semi-ok. Hand’s still attached to the arm so I guess we’re good 😉
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All the better for stroking Miss Penny with! Really hope you feel better soon.
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