At the weekend I had the displeasure of administering Louis Catorze’s spot-on flea treatment. Because he is such a bastard about it, I have never been able to part his fur and apply it to his skin; I tend to just fling the vial in his general direction and, if any micro-droplets happen to splash him, then it’s job done.
I’m joking, of course, but, by the time I’m done, there is so much liquid everywhere (except on him) that I might as well have done as described. It’s a wonder the whole house hasn’t been crawling with fleas, and I consider myself relatively fortunate that they have simply used Catorze as their toilettes and then scarpered.
Anyway, I launched a stealth attack on Le Roi whilst he was asleep, and there was the usual fight to the death before he ran and hid under the bed. I left him to it, feeling like the worst person in the world (again) but, in the time it took me to settle back down in front of the football, he had slipped silently downstairs, into the kitchen and gone to snitch to his papa. And, of course, Cat Daddy couldn’t wait to send me these:


When I went to give Catorze an apology cuddle half an hour or so after the tragic event, he took off outside.
Me: “This is your fault. You’ve turned him against me.”
Cat Daddy: “Why is it my fault? You’re the one who disturbed his nice, peaceful nap. And, anyway, I didn’t turn him against you because …”
Me: “Because what?”
Him: “…”
Me: “You were going to say because he didn’t like me to start with, weren’t you?”
Him: “…”
Cat Daddy spent much of the evening TUC, with me having to skivvy around refilling his wine. (“I can’t turf you off my lap, Louis, can I? Not after the traumatic afternoon you’ve had.”)
So it looks as if I have been relegated from the second to the third favourite human in the house, which is tricky in a house of just two humans, but Catorze has managed to do it. No doubt I’ll be about twelfth by the end of the year, whether or not we gain ten new housemates between now and then.
If it helpos, imagine how much CD would enjoy Louis if you did NOT flea treat him !
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Ugh! 🤢🤢🤢
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Ahhh, cats and their favorites. they do such a wonderful job of playing us off against each other. Xenia now loves mother because of the new heating throw, and gives me a nasty look when I disturb her. But I’m her favorite if she looks for a nighttime snack. Thanks God they are not interested in politics.
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If they were in charge of the country/countries, imagine the carnage! We often say “They couldn’t be any worse than the current government” but I bet they would try!
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They’d just change things to benefit cats and only cats.
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They would. And if the rest of us don’t like it, hard luck.
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He just enjoys manipulating you. It’s a cat thing
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He does indeed!
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Poor you. And since then, have you achieved to get some comfort from your two ungrateful boys?
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A little, yes. But they still whisper things and then suddenly stop when I walk into the room.
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It’s worse in a multicat household. You’ll Walk into a room and they’ll look at you with distain and as if you’ve just interrupted a major conflab.
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Huhuh, I love the pics, so expressive and perfect 🙂 I would love it if cats were in charge of the world! Every morning I ask Miss Penny when they plan on taking over, but she says they already have 😀
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Oh my, she’s really worked her mind control on you if you think the takeover hasn’t begun! 🤣🤣🤣
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