Bastard cats. If itâs not yours being a massive shite, itâs someone elseâs. Thereâs absolutely no respite from it.
Blue the Smoke Bengal went missing the other day. He went out in the morning and then didnât come home, which is unusual for him. His mamma was, understandably, very concerned, especially as calling, shaking his food, and having us and Family Next Door search our sheds all failed to yield any results.
I even asked Louis Catorze to go out and tell his friend to hurry home. Naturellement he didnât understand me, presumably because I said it in English and not French. And, even if he had understood, heâd have done nothing about it. In fact, heâd probably have gone to Blue and said, âBien jouĂ©, mon pote! Quelle blague!â
Eventually I posted a message, on behalf of Blueâs mamma, on our streetâs WhatsApp group, asking neighbours to look out for him (although I refrained from saying, âIf you have cats, please ask them to pass the message alongâ). Blue then reappeared immediately, covered in crud and so filthy that his mamma had to scrub him down with a damp towel. Nobody knows where he went, nor will we ever find out.
Time elapsed between me posting on the group to announce him missing, and me having to post again to say he was home: three minutes. THREE MINUTES.
And about the same amount of time elapsed between Blue returning and his mamma having to teach an online class, so there was no time for her to decompress beforehand.
I know of others who have also had their missing cats return within minutes of posting the online SOS, and I swear the little sods do it on purpose to make us look neurotic and to have everyone think weâre too lazy to search properly.
In this case it wasnât even my cat.
I guess itâs no bad thing that we have an almost-guaranteed method of getting them back when they disappear. Itâs just a shame that we have to look like utter fools in the process.
*Yes, this incident actually did take place on a Monday.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
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