When I opened the door the other night to put out some recycling, Louis Catorze slalomed between my ankles and shot out.
I know: standard Catorze.
However, I had forgotten that it was a full moon that night. So, when Cat Daddy and I, on separate occasions, tried to corral him back in, there was no sign of him.
Eventually it was time for bed, so my only options were to go and search for him (not great but the lesser evil), or to just wait up indefinitely (what the absolute NO). I called, and there was no answer. He’s usually quite good at answering when he hears his name, and at mwahhing a little “Merci” when he’s let back in again after a stint at The Front. But this time: silence.
When I went outside, I found him sitting on the window sill. The little sod had heard me perfectly well, but was just choosing to ignore me.
Furthermore, when I called his name again, he went full Regan MacNeil on me, letting out the most evil growl I have ever heard. I then saw that the moon was in full view, and that Catorze was in the best possible spot to soak up its beams.
HOLY HECK: HE WAS FEEDING FROM IT.
The little sod pitter-pattered in, somewhat resentfully, like a demonic child who had been told to leave a ouija board party early. And I didn’t get the little “Merci” chirp this time, although I did get multiple awakenings throughout the night, with him bouncing around and whining.
It’s half term next week. Merci à Dieu – or not, since I’ll be stuck with Catorze for a whole week. Luckily Cat Daddy is now home, so I’m hoping that Boys’ Club will create a diversion from mischief-making.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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