The above is a quote from Aldous Huxley. Here he is with his cat, Limbo, which is possibly the best cat name ever (apart from Sa Majesté Louis Catorze, Le Roi Soleil, of course):
I brought a handful of books on holiday (although no Huxley this time) and am about to start reading my second one. Just like the final story of the Stephen King anthology that I read last week, it involves a writer who retreats to some remote location in the hope of creative inspiration for their work – although, weirdly, I didn’t choose them for that reason and only found out after arriving here that both had the same idea.
For me, however, life isn’t imitating art. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, although this is probably just as well, since every story with this premise has always ended badly. I am in one of the most beautiful places on earth, with unlimited time and no other commitments, yet, without Louis Catorze, I just can’t write.
This post took me multiple drafts and redrafts, and it’s hard to know whether the final result is what I want because there is no real story. Not even the WordPress daily prompts help that much. When I’m at home, I almost don’t want to look at them because they give me too many ideas for the time and space available. Here, they take me halfway there but then I don’t know how to finish.
Although Cat Daddy will never admit it, Catorze IS my creative inspiration and we miss the little sod.
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe somewhere down south, Catorze has been impeccably behaved since we left. And I know that, when we return, unlike most cats, who are either delighted to see their humans again or upset with them for leaving, he will be all over his papa and indifference itself towards me. Bastard cat.
Our chat-sitteur sent us these last week. What can I say?
louiscatorze.com 
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