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Anyone with the name “Butthole” surely has some explaining to do? Even more so, if this were a real name and not a nickname?

Now, please hear me out.

Cat Daddy and I are lucky enough to have a whisky distillery just a few minutes’ walk from our holiday let, so we stopped by on Wednesday. Unfortunately there was nobody around, but we were greeted by their very friendly front-of-house manager: 

This was a most unusual-looking cat, with a tuxedo front half, tabby shadows on his body, and a tail locked in an anti-clockwise spiral position. That tail didn’t budge at all, nor did the cat utter a sound, except for purring when we stroked him. 

A silent cat, to us, is like an alien being, and we don’t quite know what to do with ourselves when confronted with such a thing. Perhaps, when they were handing out vocal volume and tail straightness, God mistakenly omitted this one and gave Louis Catorze double helpings? That said, it’s highly unlikely that Catorze would accept anything God had to offer; he would probably be barging his way to the front of Satan’s queue instead. 

We returned to the distillery yesterday, hoping to see the cat again. This time, we were greeted by both him (emitting one or two squeaks) AND his much more vocal sister.

Both came to live here as kittens, because the distillery owner wanted to control the rodent population without using horrible rat poison which contaminates the surroundings. The cats are super-friendly and love cuddles, but the owner told us, very emphatically, that they are WORKERS. He looked genuinely perplexed when we told him that our cat just lies around the place doing bugger all. 

The tabby girl is called Tiger, on account of her lovely stripes. And, as you probably guessed at the start of this post, her almost-tuxedo brother is called, erm, Butthole, because of the way in which his weird tail curves around and accentuates his rear end. Curiously, on our second visit, his tail was initially normal but, when he saw us coming, he curled it. Apparently he is perfectly able to hold his tail normally. He just doesn’t want to. 

If you are passing through the Isle of Lewis (not the most conveniently-placed thoroughfare, but anyway), please stop by at the Abhainn Dearg distillery, buy some of their incredible whisky and say hello to Tiger and Butthole.

For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com