The spring equinox is here, and this year I am especially happy to see this day because the winter has been utter merde. The sore throat which plagued me throughout February and much of March, is now back. Even Cat Daddy, who is never sick, is suffering, and he can’t seem to shake it.
Usually, whilst we peasants languish, the French monarchy would be flourishing. However, on this occasion, Louis Catorze is below par. He’s still eating, drinking and bothering the local wildlife, and he even put his internal clock forward to CST* a little early. But, one morning last week, Cat Daddy remarked that the little sod had lost his voice, with just a breathy rasp remaining where an almighty siren used to be.
*Catorzian Summer Time is exactly as it sounds: sleeping late, breakfast at 4pm and nocturnal gaddings-about at The Front.
On Wednesday Cat Daddy took Catorze to the vet for his steroid shot, with the intention of also mentioning the croaky voice. Naturellement, on the day of the appointment, the croak disappeared and his normal paint-stripping scream resumed. Luckily I had taken the precaution of videoing him earlier in the week and sending the video to the vet, because I knew full well that he would pull a stunt like this. Here is the piece of evidence which proved that Cat Daddy wasn’t a liar, a fantasist, a drama queen or a factitious disorder imposer:
The good news is that there’s nothing to worry about; apparently croaky voices sometimes just appear and disappear of their own accord. The slightly more disquieting news is that Catorze is now at his lowest weight since this time last year (3.06kg) although hopefully the Steroid Hungries will chub him up.
The day after the vet appointment, the croak came back. It would be implausible, if it weren’t so utterly Catorzian.
Joyeux Printemps. Wishing you and your furry overlords the best springtime.
louiscatorze.com 
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