The clocks went forward on Sunday, so it’s now officially British Summer Time. Weirdly, nobody says “British Winter Time” before the clocks go forward. It’s either British Summer Time or, erm, it’s not.
Cat people often complain that their furry overlords, seemingly unaware of the change, continue to wake them up for food at the old time. Louis Catorze, however, rather than waking me an hour early, wakes me when he thinks I’ve had the sleep that I deserve.
A couple of nights ago I was feeling unwell, so I went to bed at 9pm, unusually early for me. My aim was to get a good ten or more hours but, at 4:50am, Catorze decided that enough was enough and said, “Non”.
Obviously I didn’t get up and feed him because that would have taught the little sod that he was correct to wake me, condemning me eternally to 4:50am wake-up calls until either he gave up or one of us died, whichever came first. But I know people who actually do get up to feed their cats at excruciating hours. Yes, you know who you are. You are in a hell of your own making, and I have no sympathy.
The next night I went to bed at 10pm and, this time, Catorze’s alarm call came at 5:50am. So clearly his internal clock has decreed that a just and reasonable portion of sleep for me equals seven hours and fifty minutes, no more and no less.
Who needs the Oura ring when you have Catorze?
Anyway, ACTUAL summer is just around the corner. And I’m hoping that, with all the joys that it brings – bright mornings, long evenings, bugs, Rodent Duty, that kind of thing – Le Roi will soon be having far too much fun outdoors to care about how much sleep I’m having or not having.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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