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In today’s edition of Things We Used To Be Able To Eat But Now Can’t: sea bass rillettes. 

I thought I was so clever, waiting until Louis Catorze had gone outside before deciding to have sea bass rillettes for lunch. But, as soon as I opened the jar, I heard the telltale click of the cat flap and the little sod was at my feet, screaming and screaming. It was then a race against time to dollop the rillettes onto some bread and then dart into the living room ahead of Catorze. 

If you’ve ever been in the presence of a cat who wants a closed door opened, you will know how torturous it is. The sound of his screaming grated on my soul like metal scraping against metal. All the while I was hurriedly shovelling down my lunch, knowing that I would end up with indigestion yet preferring that to even another a second of screaming.

Then, the screaming stopped. I didn’t know why, nor did I care. I was just grateful to be able to eat my lunch in peace.

When I went into the kitchen to put my plate into the dishwasher I found him there, eagerly licking something on the floor. In my haste to dollop the rillettes onto my bread, I had dropped some on the floor … and Sa Maj had found it. 

This was absolutely the worst outcome imaginable, because then Catorze knew exactly what he was missing and wasn’t satisfied with just that tiny morsel. Cue headbutting, manic sweeping of every last centimetre of the floor in case another stray blob had escaped, and, of course, more screaming. Oh dear God, the screaming. 

The worst part of the story is that the rillettes weren’t even that nice.  So I have stirred up an already-psychotic cat, all for the sake of something that wasn’t really worth it. 

What next? Will we only be able to eat fish in peace at restaurants or at friends’ houses? 

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