A couple of mornings ago, when switching off my alarm, I dropped my phone under the bed. And, rather than go under the bed to try to rescue it, I decided, instead, that it would be a good idea to reach for it by sticking my arm between the wooden slats of the headboard.
You know where this is going, don’t?
Yes, that’s right: my arm became firmly stuck. And, the more I wriggled and writhed, the more my arm started to swell, trapping me with ever-increasing permanence.
I couldn’t call Cat Daddy for help as he was asleep in the attic bedroom (and, in the unlikely event of him hearing me, he would have laughed and taken pictures instead of helping me). Nor could I use my phone to ring him, as it was still under the bed and I had disabled Siri some time ago. The only way of retrieving it would have been to use the other arm and risk getting that stuck, too.
The good news is that the cavalry did arrive to help me. The bad news is that it was in the form of Louis Catorze.
Despite supposedly having excellent intuition, Catorze couldn’t figure out that I was genuinely stuck and not just lying around with my arm through the headboard for fun. Or (and this is more likely) maybe he did know, but he didn’t care because I was late serving breakfast and that was the biggest issue at hand.
Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: the cat who, for his whole life, has been ambivalent about food, decided that this was the time when food punctuality suddenly became very important. He also decided that he had to inform me of his epiphany. Which he did, very loudly, again and again, with a bit of headbutting thrown in for good measure.
Eventually I did manage to free myself and, painful though it was, at least I didn’t lose any limbs, as poor James Franco did.
However, how different would that film have been, had he had a screaming black cat attacking him as he lay with his arm trapped under a rock?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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