Louis Catorze’s summer mode has been activated. Well, it’s been Catorzian Summer Time for a little while now, to be honest; it hasn’t just happened now, in time for the summer solstice. But he has just stopped eating breakfast, a classic sign that his body clock has changed.
This is partly because he’s naturally unhungry in the warmer months, but also because he’s up late for Boys’ Club, and Cat Daddy may have* been dishing up extra-large portions of nocturnal snacks.
*I say “may have” because, due to the involvement of copious amounts of alcohol, nobody is quite sure.
CST doesn’t stop Catorze from REQUESTING breakfast. He sits by his bowl, with his tail wrapped neatly around his feet, creepy-staring at me. But, when I serve him, he pitter-patters off outside, not coming back to his food for several hours.
Cat Daddy: “I think he likes the reassurance of just knowing there will be food when he comes back.”
I don’t suppose Charles Darwin would have seen any sense in saving food for later, in a non-secure location, whilst the animal went gadding about. But then I don’t suppose his studies extended to alien cryptids like Catorze, either.
Here he is, enjoying his favourite season of the year:
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