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Remember when we naively hoped that Louis Catorze and Foxy Loxy could live harmoniously together? Yeah, well, it turns out that they can’t. Cat Daddy witnessed An Incident the other night – or, rather, two mini-incidents one after the other, but we’ll call it a single incident so that it doesn’t sound as bad.

Cat Daddy was relaxing on the sofa with Catorze on his lap. Suddenly the little sod perked up, eyes wide and ears upright, and jumped down to the patio doors, as if eyeing an invisible intruder outside. There was some low-key hissing and glass-tapping, but nothing too concerning. Then Cat Daddy glimpsed Foxy Loxy’s unmistakable tail and, presumably, Catorze saw it too, because he was out of the cat flap like a speeding train.

Cat Daddy tried to grab his tail to stop him – yes, we know you’re not supposed to do this to cats but, in his panic, he didn’t know what else to do, and this seemed the less awful alternative to an absolute bloodbath in the garden – but, on account of his recent operation, he was too slow to catch Catorze. 

Catorze was back in after a few minutes. Not long afterwards, for reasons that we cannot comprehend, Foxy Loxy returned and peered through glass again. 

Luckily Catorze didn’t go out again. However, something about this second vulpine impingement triggered Catorze’s “Lose Your Shit” switch, and he hurled himself at the glass door like a rabid wolf, hissing, clawing and letting out that awful, guttural cat fight howl. 

Cat Daddy flashed the outdoor light on and off to make Foxy Loxy run away, which he did eventually but it took some time. Either the poor thing was frozen in fear, or he couldn’t understand what this snarling black hell-beast was and had to keep staring to be sure that he wasn’t imagining it. 

One of my friends later asked if Catorze had had a steroid shot recently. Erm, nope. His previous one was almost two months prior. So, nice try, but he’s not escaping responsibility for this. 

Me: “He’s the Ricardo López of the cat world.”

Cat Daddy: “Who’s Ricardo López?”

Me: “A boxer who weighed almost nothing yet never lost a fight.”

Him: “But boxers only fight people of the same weight, so that’s not a very good comparison.”

Erm, there AREN’T any animals of the same weight as Catorze. Unless you know of any particularly combative guinea pigs, they’re all heavier. 

We don’t know what to do now, and I fear that it’s my fault for leaving water out for Foxy Loxy. It’s only rained a couple of pitiful times in the last two months, so I would feel bad about withdrawing the foxes’ only source of water now, whilst our grass remains an unreassuring shade of beige and our trees’ leaves are hanging limply and sadly. 

Here is the wicked animal at the heart of all this drama. Non, il ne regrette rien: 

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