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Louis Catorze has just walloped his head badly on the tiled floor. 

The little sod was playing with his pink butterfly on a string when it happened. Bizarrely, he wasn’t leaping for the toy. That actually might have made a bit of logical sense but, as you are probably aware by now, logical sense isn’t something that we do here at Le Château. 

Catorze had actually caught the toy between his front paws and was standing with both back feet firmly on the ground. Then, for reasons that I will never understand, he decided to do a somersault, landing on his head. 

The clunk was so loud that it even stopped Cat Daddy in his tracks, diverting his attention from the Derby della Madonnina for a good minute or so. Catorze himself looked quite shellshocked but then scratched his ear, shook himself down and pitter-pattered outside. 

Me: “Oh God. What if he’s gone outside to find a quiet place to die?”

Cat Daddy: “He’s probably just embarrassed.”

Me: “Don’t be silly. Cats don’t know or care what embarrassment is.”

Him: “It’s that toy. It’s probably got him stoned as hell. I bet he didn’t even know what he was doing, like those rock stars who OD on coke and stuff.”

Erm, the toy didn’t have any catnip in it, but good try. 

I have a really busy few weeks at work, so it’s absolutely the worst time to be checking Catorze every few minutes to make sure he hasn’t died from a bleed on the brain. And, in the event that I have to take him to the vet, would they even believe that my geriatric cat aged almost sixteen just randomly decided to do a somersault, for no reason?

UPDATE: Catorze pitter-pattered back indoors again and has seemed normal (by his own pitifully low standards) ever since.

For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com