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It’s Beltane soon and, this year, it coincides with a full moon. These magical big hitters together usually spell trouble in terms of feline madness, and this year is no exception.

Rodan climbed next door’s tree and was seen (and heard) massively upsetting a magpie. The humans suspect he was trying to go for the nest, and the disturbance was so bad that they had to resort to the hose.

Meanwhile, Louis Catorze has caught Le Rat. And it’s an absolute giant, a third his size.

Cat Daddy, later: “It didn’t look that big when we saw it the first time. Obviously it’s had time to grow.” Ugh.

I was so shocked that I screamed when I found it. I’ve had to deal with dead prey a zillion times so I ought to be used to this by now but, after a completely fallow year last year, we didn’t think Catorze would do it again. The fact that we WANTED him to do it, too, cemented the idea in our minds that he absolutely wouldn’t, just to spite us. 

My scream was loud enough to draw Cat Daddy. Unfortunately it was also loud enough to draw Catorze who, somehow, managed to arrive first at the scene, even though he was upstairs and Cat Daddy wasn’t. And, sure enough, when the little sod saw that I really didn’t want him to approach the rat, that was exactly what he did. 

I had dreadful visions of him grabbing it between his jaws, racing upstairs and hiding it in some mystery place, but luckily he then heard Cat Daddy’s voice behind him, decided that his papa was more appealing than a stinking rat corpse, and pitter-pattered off towards him instead. 

As ever, because I worry about people not believing me when I say how big Catorze’s kills are, I take photos of them with a pound coin for scale. This time was no exception. One person later commented, when I shared the photo, on how tiny the coin seemed alongside the gargantuan rodent. Another said that they almost didn’t spot the coin, because it was so dwarfed by the rat.

My sister: “I’m pretty sure some people have really small dogs that size.” Saint Jésus.

For a few horrifying moments we thought we were out of plastic bags, but Cat Daddy eventually found an Ocado one. I transferred the monster (the rat, not Catorze) into the bag before setting off on that familiar, well-worn route to the park bin. Naturellement, being a gloriously sunny day, the park was full of fellow townsfolk enjoying the sights of the sun, the lush, green plants … and me, desperately stuffing a suspicious package into the bin. 

(Yes, I had to use some force to stuff it in. The rat was so enormous that the package didn’t slide conveniently through the hole, as I had hoped.) 

At least the Sweet Sixteen party will be a (relatively) ratless zone. But … has our introduction of wet food reignited Catorze’s desire for proper flesh?

Here he is, pictured not long after the grim discovery. I don’t know what that is on his chin but, if I think too hard about, it I might never want him near me again. 

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