I don’t know whether to wear a black armband or to raise a glass of something suitably solemn* to mark the fact that we are now up to Part 10 of this sorry saga. I may well do both.
*Is there such a thing as a solemn alcoholic drink, or is this something that only exists in my head? Exuberant drinks = Crémant or Pimms. Solemn drinks = port or whisky. Nobody parties with a port or a whisky, right?
I fancied a creamy salmon pasta the other night but, knowing how much Louis Catorze loves salmon and will happily take down anyone who stands in his way of it, I decided that I couldn’t cope with the consequences. So I ditched the salmon in favour of a bog-standard cheesy pasta, the kind of thing that busy mums make for their toddlers when they don’t have time and only have two things in the fridge.
Obviously I hate myself for compromising my dinner in anticipation of my cat bullying me for it. As it turns out, the compromise was utterly pointless as the little shit bullied me anyway.
This is the cacophonous din to which I was subjected. Apologies for the background noise of the Giro or the Vuelta or whatever dull cycling event was on television at the time:
I couldn’t maintain the filming for long; it really wasn’t manageable alongside a simmering pot, tempting cheese and a screaming cat. I thought I did quite well to capture as much as I did.
Me: “He’s like a hungry shark, circling the cheese.”
Cat Daddy, without looking up from the cycling: “If you don’t want him bothering you for cheese, it’s simple: just don’t offer him any.”
Me: “What? I didn’t …”
Him: “And if he keeps asking, just tell him no.”
Me: “…”
Anyway, I was able to eat my pasta in relative peace, although I bolted it down as quickly as possible. Mealtimes, which used to be a source of great pleasure to us, are now a war zone. And, annoyingly, Cat Daddy blames me, a mere civilian, rather than the invading party, although I’m sure this is all part of Catorze’s mind control and gaslighting-by-proxy.
I know that others have had to suffer worse than this, for longer. I know that I was lucky to get away with it for as long as I did. But, seriously, what now? What do we do?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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