One of the things that I dislike about Catorzian Summer Time is that we see much less of Louis Catorze.
One of the best parts of my morning routine was drinking green tea with Catorze on my lap. However, in the summer, I only ever see him briefly for breakfast and then he’s out. Sometimes I don’t see him in the morning at all, nor do I even know where he is until he rolls in from wherever, at whatever time.
Naturellement, this considerably narrows my window for administering Catorze’s thyroid medication. If I’m not ready to carpe diem, the opportunity is lost – unless I fancy scrabbling around in the undergrowth at The Back (nope) or scaling the fence into the Zone Libre (HELL, nope) to catch him.
If Catorze is on my bed when I wake up in the morning, I have to race to beat him downstairs so that I can apply the gel to one finger of the glove before he sees it. Sometimes, instead of coming down, he sticks his head through the balustrade and silently watches me, so I have to be very careful that I’m not seen messing with any of his thyroid paraphernalia, believing him to still be on the bed.
One huge blessing, however, is that Catorze is starting to writhe and kick less than he did when we first began this treatment. Is this a sign that he could actually – gasp – be getting used to it? Dare I hope that, one day, he will just sit still and accept it?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
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