I have a subscription for Louis Catorze’s Orijen, and I imagined that this would be pretty foolproof in terms of never running out. The next delivery arrives well before the previous lot has run out, and that’s how it works, non?
Ahem.
Pets Corner emailed to tell me that there were stock issues, but stupidly I didn’t read the message properly and I thought they were just letting me know that it had been despatched. Cat Daddy alerted me to the fact that we were down to our last packet, and the timing couldn’t have been worse: right after Catorze’s steroid shot, when he’s always extra hungry.
After the replacement delivery from, erm, Jurassic Bark, also failed to arrive on time, and not even Amaz*n were able to fulfil until days after we would have run out, Cat Daddy saved the day by tracking down some 1.8kg packs of Orijen at Pets at Home. But I also went to the new, independent pet shop which has just opened nearby, as I wanted the small 340g packs which Pets at Home don’t sell.
When I walked in, there was a lady deep in conversation on the phone, holding a puppy under one arm. I have no idea of his breed, but he was but he was terrier-like, with light brown and white fur. I later found out that his name was Cosmo. He didn’t bother asking mine.
Because it was raining, I had my hood up. And, when I realised that the lady would probably be a while longer on the phone, I pulled my hood down whilst waiting. I have huge, voluminous hair which fits under a tight-fitting hood, yet floofs up and out when the hood is removed, suddenly making my head look twelve times its previous size, like Sideshow Bob from The Simpsons. The floofing is obviously quite a regular occurrence for me, and nobody around me really notices or cares. However, Cosmo did notice. And he was not happy.
After an audible “Huh?” at my transformation, which, to him, must have seemed like a Men In Black-style mutation of bursting tendrils, Cosmo started growling.
Me: “Aww. Don’t be scared, little doggy.”
Cosmo: “GRRRRR! GRRRRR!”
At that point the lady decided that she’d better end her phone call to avert this potential crisis. To add further insult to existing insult, she told me that they didn’t stock Orijen: “We used to have it, but it wasn’t very popular because it’s so expensive.”
Great.
I scooted out of the pet shop before Cosmo leapt out of the lady’s arms to attack the shapeshifting alien with the exploding head. And now I can never go back there again, Orijen or no Orijen.
No doubt, in the next few weeks, all the failed deliveries will come at once, and we will have a GLUT of Orijen but nowhere to store it.
Catorze knows this, and says it’s our problème.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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