Have you heard that saying: “You’re only ever one mouse click away from cats and their bullshittery”?
Meet Pumpkin:
In a truly exploitative fashion that only a cat could get away with, Pumpkin conned her way into someone’s house (including a break-and-enter through an upper floor window at 3am, scaring the merde out of the resident) and refused to leave. Unfortunately the bloke who hosted her wasn’t able to keep her due to family members being allergic to cats so, after being scanned and confirmed chipless, Pumpkin moved in permanently with Antoine (Louis Catorze’s frère-from-another-mère) and Boots (Antoine’s usurper stepbrother).
Pumpkin had only been in her new abode for a few hours when she disappeared. Her mamma found no trace of her, although she did find … an open bathroom window. Nobody had actually seen Pumpkin leave but, having searched the house, the humans came to the most logical conclusion: that the little sod had done a runner.
Where on earth does one start when looking for a cat who isn’t yet chipped (the vet appointment had been booked for three days later), and who knows neither her house nor her own name?
That evening, both Pumpkin’s mamma and I looked at maps and messaged one another about where she could have gone, and how easy it might be for anyone to find her. The surrounding area included a cemetery, which wouldn’t have been the most fun place to trawl at night, not even with the hilarity of shaking a bag of Dreamies and pointlessly calling out, “Pumpkin!”
One of the traditional strategies in this sort of situation is to place the humans’ dirty clothes in areas surrounding the house, in the hope that the smell of home might lure back the absconded kitty, but of course Pumpkin hadn’t been in her house for long enough to know that smell. My single, desperate idea, if she still hadn’t been found the next day, was to ask Cat-Hosting Bloke to give us some of his worn clothes – ridiculous, I know, since Pumpkin hadn’t been in his house for long, either – but it was all we had.
The following morning, Pumpkin’s mamma found a trail of cat food pouches strewn across the house, each punctured, with the contents drained. This isn’t Antoine’s style, and Boots, whilst food-orientated, is far too lazy to bother with this kind of caper, so the resident cats were swiftly ruled out. Either there was some sort of chupacabra at large … or Pumpkin was still in the house.
The little sod was finally found under the coffee table. And thank goodness for that, because I was ready to drive to the home of Cat-Hosting Bloke, bang on the door and shout, “Hey, you don’t know me, but I need you to take off your clothes and give them to me.”
Anyway, the moral of this story is that, unless you see the cat escaping, you should assume them to still be on the premises, and keep all perimeters closely guarded. The naughty miscreant is now under room arrest and won’t be going anywhere for the foreseeable future, apart from to attend that vet appointment which didn’t quite go as planned; Madame refused to be chipped and vaccinated despite four veterinary staff members’ best efforts.
How will the balance of power shift with Pumpkin’s arrival? Will Alpha Male Boots retain the crown, or will he be toppled by the young upstart?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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