Merci à Dieu: Louis Catorze’s course of ear drops is complete. And what fun it wasn’t.
Poor Catorze. I don’t suppose he knew what came over me when, one minute, he’d be snoozing peacefully on my lap and, the next, I was turning his ears inside-out and shoving stuff into them.
Warming the bottle of liquid first, which I had originally dismissed as a bratty indulgence, is very important; I discovered this the hard way when I accidentally let it go cold one time, and Catorze thrashed and writhed as if I’d poured acid into his ear.
On another occasion, he shook the liquid so hard out of his ear that I actually saw it fly across the room. And, of course, when I went to clean it up, there was no trace of it. No doubt I will find it by the time it’s corroded a hole wherever it landed (probably on something highly visible, ruinously expensive or both).
On a third occasion, he shook the liquid out of his ear again but this time it was much easier to know where it landed: my face.
Despite all this, the little sod never attempted to eviscerate me, despite the fact that he has the strength to do so. In fact, there were times when he was back on my lap and purring minutes afterwards. I like to think that, on some level, he understands that I do this for a reason, although the reality is that he probably just forgot.
Anyway, Catorze is through it, as are we – in fact, he hasn’t scratched his ears or shaken his head since I started the treatment. So it seems to be working.
Here he is, thanking Satan and all his demons below that the whole thing is now over:
louiscatorze.com 
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