Je crache sur ta tombe

I am back at school this week, having spent the whole of half term being ill. And when I say “the whole of half term” I really do mean every bit of it; I started feeling off colour on the evening I came home from school, and I’m still trying to shake the dregs of it right now. Sadly it didn’t tail off after I blogged about it; in fact, it got a whole lot worse first, and I had to cancel most of my half term plans.

During this time Louis Catorze was about as much use as a punch in the eye, and twice as painful. One night he ramped up his parkour by several notches, bouncing all over me and knocking things off my bedside table. Every time I coughed, it was like a dose of amphetamines to him and seemed to buoy him for the next round of madness.

The next night he left me alone until 4:45am, when I decided to go and sleep downstairs because I was worried about my coughing keeping Cat Daddy and our overnight guest awake. That was when Catorze started creepy-staring for food. FOR FOOD. AT 4:45AM.

When I give into the creepy staring, Cat Daddy often makes sarcastic and Unrepeatable Expletive-ridden remarks about me “pandering to him”. But, contrary to what he believes, that’s not what it’s about. I give in because the bone-chilling staring makes me so uncomfortable that I can’t bear it. I think I could have been forgiven for surrendering on this occasion but, luckily, despite being ill, I remained switched-on enough to know that, if I complied this one time, I would be condemning myself to a 4:45am wake-up call for the rest of my life. So I ignored him, lay on the sofa and closed my eyes, at which point the little sod jumped onto my chest and had a good old shake.

Now, when most cats shake, it’s not unheard of for a few stray drops of spit to fly out of their mouths. However, because Catorze can’t fully close his mouth on account of his fangs, his shakes let loose a lot more than a few drops. So, as well as my own copious snot from being ill, my face was then showered with cat spit. Some went into my eye, and I’m pretty sure I ate some, too.

I know that some people out there willingly ingest cat spit, by allowing their cat to lick their faces and their mouths. I am not one of those people. And, if you were to ask anyone whether they would rather swallow cat spit or not swallow cat spit, I know what most of them would say.

At various random intervals throughout that day, Catorze came back to creepy-stare at me some more. Look at his evil face. I’m almost starting to wonder if eating more cat spit would be preferable to this:


35 thoughts on “Je crache sur ta tombe

  1. I’m sorry you were sick for so long. I get the stare from Frankie but it’s not creepy, he has the ability to make me feel guilty. Chris, on the other hand, will scratch me or stick his paws in my plate.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Making you feel guilty is still pretty bad. Scratching and ruining your food is also bad. Naughty boys! What about Floki? Is he a good boy?


    1. Ha! At Hallowe’en I always wonder if our dressing up will scare him, but it never does. It’s as if he’s saying, “Good try, but I know it’s you. Try harder next time.”

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Ok, I’ll admit that’s one of a hell scary stare! Pure evil indeed but I’m wondering if you photoshopped this photograph…?? 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So sorry you’ve had such a rubbish time. Two of mine sometimes sneeze on my face in the night. It’s not nice! Snoodle also licks the rim of my water cup in the night, so I’ve probably ingested various cat fluids over the years and am still here to tell the tale. It’s good for the immune system to be exposed to a variety of bugs anyway – isn’t it???? 😉 xxx

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  4. Long ago I came to accept snotrockets as a small price to pay for kitty love. So I wonder if the creepy stare is his CAT Scan to check your health?

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I had one chronic sneezer – no matter how the vets treated her, her allergies went on and on. One of the others is subject to periodic respiratory infections, but his are at least intermittent. (I hope I didn’t just jinx that.) Long ago one drank my cafe-au-lait every chance he got. I kind of subscribe to the strengthening-your-immune- system school of thought too, but in your case it seems to have no effect.

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  6. I caught one of mine almost orgasmically happily licking my cafe au lait. 🤢 My first thought was: how long has she been doing this? I had been leaving it on a coffee table to cool EVERY MORNING. FOR MONTHS. The look on her face as I snatched it away and dumped it, mug and all, in the rubbish bin was priceless. She never forgave me 😾

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  7. I would make it with whole milk, and not very dark. This same demon once knocked the butter bell over. The butter looked like swiss cheese when she & her partners in crime were discovered. We were finding buttery paw prints left from their Formula One speed escape scramble for the rest of the day.

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