Last year Cat Daddy planted some tarragon in the garden, and it didn’t go well. Look here and here if you want to know the reason why, although I expect you can guess.
Not wishing to go through the same pain this year, Cat Daddy just let low-risk, plain grass grow in what used to be herb troughs. The idea of cultivating special grass for Louis Catorze to sit on, when there is a WHOLE FIELD FULL OF GRASS in the Zone Libre, is ridiculous. But such is the Catorzian way of life; nothing about it ever makes sense.
As you can see, Catorze has not set paw in either grass trough, not once. The grass remains utterly perfect and untouched, just like the tarragon wasn’t.
To say that Cat Daddy is raging is a massive understatement. And he was even more furious when he discovered that Catorze had gone gadding about in the longer grass in the Zone Libre (evidence captured below), chugged down however-much of it and then left a massive pile of puke on one of our ruinously-expensive hand-woven Harris Tweed cushions. Unrepeatable Expletives of the Worst Kind poured like summer rain. And not a shite was giv’n by Sa Maj about any of it.
Cats are bastards. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
louiscatorze.com 
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