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It had to happen sooner or later, and on Wednesday it finally came into effect: just like other water suppliers before them, Thames Water have implemented a hosepipe ban. We are not allowed to use a garden hose to water plants, fill a paddling pool or clean vehicles. However, we are allowed to use one to water new plants (“new” = planted in the last four weeks), clean a leisure boat (?) and clean a vehicle if visiting customers. I know. I KNOW.

Cat Daddy and I don’t like having to empty the washing-up bowl into the shrubbery several times a day, but we understand why we have to do it. And, so far, la personne royale has escaped an unceremonious soaking, despite the fact that he insists on choosing a new and unobtrusive sleeping spot in the shrubbery every time he goes out.

The day after the hosepipe ban, we had torrential rain for most of the day. Obviously, this is a good thing. However, the bad news is that rain turns Louis Catorze into a complete and utter maniac. Not that he really needs an excuse.

Catorze LOVES storms. When it rains, whilst his more normal feline counterparts are curled up indoors, he is underneath the outdoor table listening to the rain fall around him, or out somewhere conducting the kind of ICB that can only be conducted in the rain. I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to bury a human body in a thunderstorm, unaided and with no tools.

This particular storm started in the early hours of Wednesday morning. I was fully aware of it all the way because Catorze spent several hours going outside, coming in to jump all over me and roll his gross, wet body all over the bed, then going back out again to repeat the cycle.

After pounding down relentlessly all morning, the rain finally stopped mid-afternoon. But Sa Maj wasn’t done. He was still going outside but, this time, gadding about in the still-wet undergrowth and then returning to roll the water onto me/us/the furniture.

I heard Cat Daddy’s voice saying, “Ugh, Louis, look at the STATE of you! You’re drenched!”

Catorze responded with his customary “Mwah!” then promptly went out to gad about in the undergrowth again.

I have given up pondering whether he will turn normal one day, or slow down in his old age. He won’t. And, even though he gives us the creeps, we can’t help but love him for it.