Cat Daddy and I have just been for a pared-down weekend away. I say “pared-down” because it was supposed to be in a fancy hotel in Manchester, but I’m too ill to fully appreciate fancy and, worse still, Cat Daddy is now starting to cough, so we went for a shorter stay in a Premier Inn instead. We could probably have done with staying at home and resting, but a family member had bought us tickets for a Wrexham AFC* football match, and we didn’t think we’d have another opportunity to go.
*Because of the stardust of Ryan Reynolds and that other guy (watch “Welcome to Wrexham” if you have Disney Plus), the world and his cat wants Wrexham tickets. Even people who aren’t Wrexham fans want tickets. In fact, even people who aren’t FOOTBALL fans want tickets.
As luck would have it, one of Louis Catorze’s favourite people was planning to be in London for the weekend, so she was happy to come and look after the little sod. (He always behaves impeccably for her, which is both a relief and really annoying.)
During our chat-sitteur’s previous stay, Catorze was on dry food only. So we had to advise her of the change.
Us: “By the way, he now has wet food mixed with the dry food.”
Us: “And you have to cut it up into really small pieces …”
Us: “… Using his antique Louis XIV silverware.”
Catorze had an absolute ball, following his chat-sitteur around, cuddling up to her in bed and pretending to be an adorable little kitten. Apart from a few bursts of parkour at reasonable hours (“You weren’t exaggerating about his thundering around the house!”) he was utterly saintly. As soon as we returned he morphed back into his usual self, giving us the full Day-Lewis playing the part of a cat who hadn’t been fed for the entire weekend, creepy-staring, screaming and generally being a shite. The adorable little kittenness was gone in a flash.
Here are some pictures of the fun he had without us. I know that we all want our cats to feel comfortable with their chat-sitteurs, but come on.