I have just had to eat my dinner* with my plate balanced on my left knee, and with my right leg repeatedly kicking away a screaming cat.
*It was chicken fajitas topped with sour cream and cheese, merci for asking.
Every time I kicked, he came back for more. Despite only being the size of Chucky, Louis Catorze had the resilience of Michael Myers, the guile of Hannibal Lecter and the volume of, erm, Leatherface’s chainsaw.
Naturellement, because I wanted the torment to be over, I bolted down my dinner as quickly as possible, and was finished long before Cat Daddy. Catorze then settled on my lap and left his papa to finish his meal in peace. The little sod didn’t utter so much as a squeak.
Me: “Why isn’t he screaming at you?”
Cat Daddy: “Because this is MY dinner. He only wants YOUR food, because you’re the one who gave him salmon off YOUR plate.”
I see.
This is never going to end, is it?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
Leave a comment