Although The Great Salmon Grab was ages ago, its effects have been hard-hitting and far-reaching.
Louis Catorze is eating, but there is something strange about the way he’s doing it. I once described it as “reluctant”, but that implies a certain – albeit very low – level of cooperation, and this isn’t really what’s happening. It’s more “resentful” than “reluctant”. Maybe even “bitter”. Can one eat a meal “bitterly”? Well, Catorze can and does, presumably to protest about the fact that no further Michelin-starred hot-smoked salmon has been forthcoming.

Whilst he can take or leave his own food, he’s obsessed with ours. Since The Great Salmon Grab, he has lunged for the following:
⁃ Avocado
⁃ Peanuts
⁃ Salmon pâté (ok, I guess I was asking for trouble with this one)
⁃ Blueberries and kefir
⁃ Home-made salted caramel sauce
⁃ A cup of silver tip white tea
It’s over, isn’t it? The joyous, golden époque when we were able to eat whatever we wanted without incident, and even leave food unattended, is no more. We are now forced to deal with bullying and intimidation at the hands of this tiny, toothy despot.
Coincidentally, Catorze’s cat-cousin Otis seems to have received the same food memo: my sister caught him on the kitchen worktop the other day, tucking into the leftover apple pie. The bastards are all at it.
Every time I prepare a meal, I look for Catorze to try to determine whether I’ll be eating in peace or batting him away like an annoying wasp who’s after my orange juice. And my mind drifts to how those few careless seconds have permanently altered our existence. Oh, and Cat Daddy still blames me. In fact, if I appear annoyed with him about anything, he retorts, “Just because YOUR dinner got stolen by a cat, don’t have a go at me.”
Catorze has ruined everything and, furthermore, he’s made it all look like my fault. What a horrid beast he is.
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