Who do you spend the most time with?
Merde, merde and thrice merde: I have Covid. In some ways I’m glad there is, at least, an explanation for why I feel so shite, and conducting the test in front of Cat Daddy soon put a lid on all his “Are you sure it’s not hay fever?” nonsense.
I should have known that something was afoot when Louis Catorze spent the whole weekend on my lap, not even budging through my sneezes. He doesn’t have much patience for, erm, patients, and he makes his irritation quite plain when I’m ill.
Unless it’s Covid. For reasons that nobody understands, when it’s Covid he is an affectionate and attentive nursemaid and won’t leave my side.
So, from Friday to today, I’ve spent every waking minute, and probably every sleeping one too, with Catorze.
This isn’t all some massive coincidence, because he’s done it before. I could have made an absolute fortune had I rented him out when Covid was rife; this kind of skill is right up there with those dogs who can sniff out cancer, dead bodies and whether or not a fire was started deliberately. (Different dogs, I mean, each doing just one of those things. I don’t suppose the same dogs can do all three.)
At least the football is on. And at least I don’t have to work on Mondays.
Here is Catorze, snuggled up against me. This is both heart-tuggingly cute and creepy as hell:
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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