*It’s Partie 2 because this is the second time I’ve used this title. It’s clearly not the second time Louis Catorze has ever screamed.
This is the face – and voice – of someone who has ignored me since I returned home after being out all morning, but who wants to be my friend now that I am making mackerel pâté:
I offered him some Orijen, but that was met with one sniff and his “Go home; you’re embarrassing yourself” look. Catorze may be thicker than a concrete milkshake, but even he knows that what I’m offering isn’t the thing emitting the sublime fishy fragrance.
Anyway, I was forced to eat my snack standing up. And, even when it was all gone, Catorze wasn’t done; the sublime fishy fragrance still lingered, and the little sod alternated between glaring, suspicious sniffing and more screaming, in an effort to guilt me into revealing where I had hidden the mackerel.
Cat Daddy, resignedly and without looking up from his phone: “He’s like this all the time, and he’s getting worse.”
This is true. But, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t help. It simply leaves us as we were before, except with a strange ringing in our ears and a few more years taken off our lives.
Bastard cat.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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