I usually go to bed early and wake up early, whereas Cat Daddy is late to bed and late to rise. And, during our holiday, we have kept to these patterns; I am the lark and he is the nightingale, with our respective time zones about three hours apart.
When Cat Daddy was having his evening cocktail* a couple of nights ago, he noticed that an outdoor light was on. He didn’t recall switching it on himself. I imagine that he thought it was me, and cursed me for my inattention (although he won’t admit this).
He went through the whole cottage flipping every switch, yet none of them were the magical one that turned off this outside light. Eventually he went into the garden to see if, perhaps, there might be a switch somewhere outside, and he was greeted by this sight:
Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: this cheeky sod had triggered the motion-activated security lighting.
What the flippin’ heck would a cat be doing here? There are a few farms dotted around, but he looks far too well-kept to be a farm cat. (Mind you, Louis Catorze doesn’t lift a finger around Le Château and is indulged to the point of ridiculousness, yet you all know what he looks like. So appearances don’t really mean shit.)
We are miles away from anywhere. Yet not, it seems, too far away to be given the runaround by a bastard cat.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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