Saint JΓ©sus, if Iβm not being screamed at, Iβm being INVIGILATED whilst I cook. I bet the contestants on Masterchef donβt have to put up with this kind of thing:
Louis Catorze has never, EVER sat like this in the kitchen before, but heβs doing it now. I might have understood had I been preparing cheese, but this time I was cutting onions and garlic.
Cat Daddy, without looking up from the football: βGive him a bit of something awful to teach him a lesson! Turmeric, maybe. Or chilli.β
I wavered momentarily on that fine line between βThis will teach the little shit a lessonβ and βThis could cost us dearly at the emergency vetβ but, eventually, I settled for the former. I held out a piece of garlic and Catorze almost knocked it out of my hand in his haste to get to it. Then, when he smelled it, he changed his mind.
I had hoped that he would leave me alone. However, I only succeeded in making him more angry because Iβd tricked him.
Cue more creepy-staring and screaming and, when they didnβt work, he went to Cat Daddy and lunged for his (plain, unbuttered) piece of flatbread.
May our old life rest in peace; we will remember it fondly, with tears in our eyes. This is the new normal – if, indeed, anything about Catorzian life can be called βnormalβ.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
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