I am prepared to cut Louis Catorze some slack when it’s a full moon; there’s no way that a black vampire cat CANNOT be affected by it so, sometimes, maybe he just can’t help it (whatever “it” may be). However, when the moon is in its NEW* phase, it’s more difficult.
*This is not a new moon in the way that most selenophiles would understand; in this household, NEW stands for No Excuse Whatsoever, meaning it’s not full yet the cats are still pissing us off.
On Saturday morning, at 4:15am, I was awoken by galloping and squeaking. I realised that Catorze was under the bed, and that he had company. This is never good.
I nervously pointed my phone over the edge of the bed like a periscope, and captured this:
By the time I had fully registered what was going on, both Catorze and the mouse had darted under the bed and were right in the middle, so I couldn’t reach them. I then decided to, erm, shut the door and leave both gladiators to fight it out in the amphitheatre, with the survivor being declared the winner. At that stage I didn’t care which one it was.
Cat Daddy was asleep in the attic bedroom (because we sleep very badly together), so I went to join him.
Me: “Louis has brought a mouse in and released it under the bed.”
Him: “Oh. So you thought the best thing to do was wake me?”
Me: “…”
Him: “Where is the mouse now?”
Me: “Still under the bed. I’ve just left them until one of them dies.”
Him: “We can’t just leave them there. We’ll have to try and catch it ourselves.”
We shuffled downstairs and Cat Daddy went to fetch a dustpan and brush. Catorze was still under the bed, tail swishing.
Cat Daddy: “We won’t be able to get the mouse out if he’s there. Can you grab him from that side?”
Me: “I can’t reach.”
Him: “Try! Grab his tail!”
Obviously I wasn’t going to pull Catorze’s tail in case it came off in my hand, but I managed to get my fingertips to his rump, haul him out and shut him out of the bedroom. However, we then realised that we needed him in order to locate the mouse, like a water-divining rod, so we promptly let him back in again.
Unfortunately, due to the amount of stuff under our bed, we had no way of actually seeing the mouse. So we reverted back to my original plan of shutting the bedroom door and leaving them to it, gladiator-style.
After a couple of hours of strange dreams involving all manner of dead and undead mice, I cautiously tiptoed back into the bedroom, hoping to find a dead mouse tastefully presented in the middle of the floor. However, all I saw was a sleeping Catorze on the bed. No mouse.
Did Catorze eat it (unlikely, but then he’s all about the element of surprise, especially if it’s a surprise that nobody wants)? Is it living it up in the box containing Cat Daddy’s cycling gear? Has it managed to squeeze underneath the floorboards? Is it decaying acridly in the June heat, ready to be discovered by our easily-scared cleaning lady, like that other time when she found a rat that Catorze had saved for later?
Tune into the next episode of Le Blog, when the answers to all of the above will, erm, most likely still not be revealed.
louiscatorze.com 
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