Louis Catorze’s new spot-on treatment, which covers fleas, ticks and two types of arse-worm, is a life-changer. However, as is the Catorzian way, this doesn’t stop the little sod from making it as difficult as is felinely possible when it happens.
There is a rather handy gap in our coffee table, between the flat wooden bit and the metal frame bit. The tube fits upright in this gap, so I was able to take off the lid, stand it up within reach and wait for the little sod to appear.
Except … he didn’t appear. I have no idea what he was doing – clearly not Rodent Duty, because his friend came back to do that on his behalf (see below) – but Catorze was absent for ages. When he did finally show his silly face, he sat upright on my lap, sniffing suspiciously around him and refusing to sleep.
After a few minutes of feigning sleep, Catorze started washing. Then he went for a drink and pitter-pattered over to a corner of the room to look at nothing in particular. Then he went outside again. He did everything but the one thing I wanted him to do: fall asleep on my lap. And, all the while, the liquid in the teeny-tiny tube was probably evaporating fast.
I got him in the end. Incredibly, I was even able to burrow right down to the skin, which is what you’re supposed to do with spot-on but I’ve probably only managed it twice in my life. There was much less liquid than in the previous Broadline tube, so there was less neck ick afterwards and Catorze didn’t seem inclined to roll off the residue onto every absorbent surface in the house. And, astonishingly, I was forgiven immediately afterwards. He ran at first, but then came back and settled on my lap again.
It wasn’t the most fun that Catorze or I have ever had in an afternoon. But the fact that I don’t have to do it every month certainly dulls some of the pain, even if it does come at the price of £44 per treatment.
If you fancy going through the torment of spot-on four times a year instead of twelve, this is the magic elixir.
louiscatorze.com 
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