Louis Catorze has been very unwell. It’s been the worst few days.
Our cleaning lady returned, despite the horror that she suffered at Catorze’s paws, and he greeted her with two piles of puke. This wasn’t unusual, because he is always chewing grass. Also, as you know, Catorze is the master of absolutely terrible timing, so to have him puke during someone’s visit was shocking yet not surprising.
However, the puking took a really bad turn a couple of days later; it just seemed to be constant and, when I went to clean up one lot, I discovered/stepped in another lot that I didn’t know about. He just didn’t seem to be keeping down any food or drink, so off to the vet we went. And, worryingly, there was no fight when we shoved Catorze into the transportation pod, and deathly silence on the journey there, although he started screaming when Kira came into the waiting room.
After finding out more about her, I wasn’t surprised; Kira may well be the one cat in the world who is worse than Catorze, so he was probably screaming to her for tips.
Me, to Kira’s mamma: “Aww, what’s your cat’s name?”
Her: “Kira. It’s the Japanese name for the god of death.”
Me: “…”
Her: “And she’s actually tried to murder me a few times.”
Me: “…”
Her mamma then proceeded to tell me about how Kira waited until she was asleep and then WENT FOR HER EYES. And, naturellement, Kira, looked as sweet as candy. You see, Mesdames et Messieurs? Demons walk among us, on four paws.
We were then joined by a five-week-old black kitten called Salem, who was small enough to fit into his mamma’s hand yet set our eardrums alight with his screaming. It was quite disconcerting being in a room with other cats and Catorze being neither the smallest nor the loudest nor the biggest psycho.
I had to hold Catorze in a vice-like grip to allow the vet to examine him, and my effort was such that my Oura ring registered it as “Pilates”. After recording another new Lowest Weight Ever (2.5kg), I left him there for a blood test and scan. Cat Daddy went back later that morning with Catorze’s overnight bag just in case (a blanket, some Orijen, a few sachets of Cool Cat Club and his meds), and he and I then spent an absolutely awful day preparing ourselves for the vet to tell us that Catorze wouldn’t be coming home at all.
It turns out that Catorze has pancreatitis. Because he was severely dehydrated after all the puking, they decided to keep him in overnight after all, but – MERCI À DIEU – it wasn’t immediately life-threatening. After some anti-nausea meds and pain relief, Catorze was “a lot more cuddly”. And they called again yesterday afternoon to say that they need to keep him for one more night, but that he’s “eating, purring and demanding attention”.
Cat Daddy: “Well, I hope he’s enjoying his spa hotel break. I can’t believe we had to provide the bloody food, though.”
Cat Daddy again: “At least we’ve had some peace and quiet. Although it would’ve been cheaper to go to the Premier Inn.”
Le Château sans Catorze is a very strange place indeed. We can’t wait to see the little sod again.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
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