The Outer Hebrides really are just like heaven. In fact, if, indeed, heaven exists, rather than clouds and pearly gates and angels playing harps, we imagine it to be the same as one’s regular life but without the shit bits, just like in that book The Lovely Bones.
If we were in heaven we would live here, go for walks, visit the local shop a couple of times a week, buy what we needed, then come back, cook, eat, read books and make whisky cocktails. And we’d just keep doing those things forever.
The only thing missing, of course, is a cat. I cannot imagine heaven without a cat.
In the absence of Louis Catorze, just as when we went to the north coast of mainland Scotland, Cat Daddy has adopted a pair of gulls, whom he has named Fred and Ginger. We made the mistake of giving them some food, and now they won’t leave us alone; we have to keep presenting offerings to appease the winged gods and, when we do, Fred usually swoops before I’ve even gone back indoors, having been spying on us from some unknown location. Then he does his terrifying velociraptor call to inform Ginger of the dinner situation.
Ginger is less pushy, but Fred has no shame. When it’s time to eat, he sits outside our cottage, screeching. He was even waiting for us when we returned from one of our beach walk the other day:
So, whilst we don’t have a cat in our little slice of heaven, we aren’t short of animals who scream for food, then bully and intimidate us when we aren’t quick enough in dishing it up. It’s almost as if we never left home.
Meanwhile, back in TW8, this is what Catorze is up to. And this is why he’s going straight to hell:
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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