louiscatorze.com

Je crie, donc je suis

In the dining room sits a box of canned cat food, all of which Louis Catorze has rejected over time. For ages I’ve been meaning to pass it onto a more grateful cat but, a few days ago, Cat Daddy accidentally gave one to Catorze, thinking it were his current supply, and the little sod ate it. 

He didn’t just eat it hesitantly; he devoured it, as if he hadn’t been fed for a thousand years. And then he wanted more. And more. AND MORE. 

Cat Daddy, very helpfully: “He doesn’t like having the same flavour day in and day out. He wants VARIETY.”

I wouldn’t usually recommend constantly giving food to a cat just because they ask for it, but Catorze was pitifully haggard after his pancreatitis. So we just kept going and gave him as much as he wanted. On one notable day he ate four cans of wet food, plus a good couple of servings of Orijen, and he looks so much better for it, chubbing up like a good ‘un. (Mind you, who wouldn’t chub up with an unlimited supply of food and a pair of suckers who bring it to you every time you stare or scream?) 

Fat boy.

I really hope this is a sign that we have turned a corner regarding his health. 

Here he is, sitting in a most ungainly, asymmetric position, looking more like a fat tarantula than a cat, waiting for his third – or maybe fourth, we’ve lost count now – dinner: 

What is happening with that leg?

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

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