We recently had a cat-disliking friend visit us. Now, before you ask how I could invite such a person to Le Château, I don’t care whether or not visitors like cats as long as they pretend whilst they’re here. After all, I have to pretend all the time with people’s kids (and I do a fine job, if I say so myself).
When Cat-Disliking Friend saw Louis Catorze for the first time, he said: “That’s a BEAUTIFUL black cat! He’s like something from a story book!”
Well, that rather depends on the book. Perhaps he had something like this in mind:
Good pretending, though, mon gars. Keep it up.
Cat Daddy: “To be fair, the lighting in this house is pretty dim.”
Watching Catorze interact with Cat-Disliking Friend was interesting. He was curious, creepy-staring and screaming, but he wasn’t all over him as he usually is with men. Cat-Disliking Friend did well with the pretence, stroking the little sod whenever possible, and he even respected the sanctity of being TUC by fetching something from the kitchen whilst I was in this holy state, without me having to ask. But I would describe the Catorzian comportement as “friendly but reserved” (well, by his standards, anyway). Despite being thicker than a concrete milkshake, HE KNEW.
What a shame he couldn’t have behaved like this a few years ago. Cat Daddy and I had offered one of our spare rooms to a refugee girl in her late teens, with a view to her living with us during her university holidays until she had completed her course. However, her agency reported that she was afraid of cats.
Cat Daddy told them that we had a cat, and suggested that they bring her over for tea one day to see how comfortable she felt around Catorze before deciding whether or not to move in. Since she was a girl and not a boy, I imagined that Catorze would behave. I know. I KNOW.
The horrid little sod pounced as soon as she arrived, rolling all over her coat, hollering his guts out, with a mortified Cat Daddy repeatedly trying to shoo him away. As I was making the tea I heard the poor girl scream because Catorze had suddenly jumped onto the arm of the sofa, startling her. It was excruciating. We could have shut him in another room during her visit, but this seemed pointless if the end goal was having her live here for three years.
As our visitor left, Cat Daddy suggested that, perhaps, she might consider spending a trial weekend with us. She said she’d think about it.
We never heard from her again.
Imagine experiencing war, poverty and destitution, yet spending a weekend with Catorze is just beyond the pale. That said, we get it. We live with him mainly as an act of civic duty, so that nobody else will have to.
louiscatorze.com 
Leave a reply to Aspasía S. Bissas Cancel reply