Sorry, everyone, for the weird posting yesterday. The system has been glitching like crazy, publishing some material too early and unpublishing other, already-live material. I don’t know what’s going on but I blame Mercury Retrograde.
In other news, Mesdames et Messieurs, we had yet another puke incident last week. And, whilst there’s never really a good time, could there be a worse time than when I’m tucked up in bed, and when Cat Daddy is awake but drunk?
One night, the hork-hork klaxon wrenched me out of my almost-sleep. I called Cat Daddy, who obligingly came to my rescue with the spray and kitchen towel, only to find Louis Catorze sitting innocently on the landing, with no sign of any puke.
After a minute or so of searching, we found a small pile and Cat Daddy duly dealt with us using his arsenal of cleaning weaponry. I was able to then go back to sleep, happy in the knowledge that my house was a puke-free zone.
I imagine you can see where this story is going, non?
The next morning, about 50cm from the original pile (although round a corner, hence why I had missed it the first time), I discovered a much bigger pile of puke. I was late for work so I didn’t have time to clean it up, so I had no option but to message Cat Daddy and ask him to do it when he got up.
I would have felt bad enough sending such a message anyway but, when I opened up my WhatsApp to send the message, I discovered that Cat Daddy had sent me a lovely drunk message the night before, saying how much he was looking forward to us going away for the weekend.
My reply: “Yeah, same. By the way, there’s another pile of cat puke in the front bedroom. Would you mind cleaning it up, please?”
It’s just non-stop nonsense here at Le Château. And, somehow, Catorze seems to do all right despite being the one who causes most of it.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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