louiscatorze.com

Le solstice d’hiver

21/12/2015

The winter solstice is almost here! Soon the days will gradually start to get brighter and will bring, along with the new light, the promise of spring and happy times.

This time of year is said to be most auspicious for making wishes for the future but, to be honest, we have everything we want: a home, food in the fridge & a happy, healthy Roi. So, to thank you all for your support, we have decided to donate £1 per person following Le Blog to an animal charity*, and to wish for a more positive future for the less fortunate kitties out there.

We are sure Catorze will have no objection to sacrificing a few festive treats to help his comrades. Plus he’s thick, so he won’t know.

May you all feel the magic of this beautiful season, and may your cats forever feel lucky and loved.

*Louis Catorze donated to Lilly’s Legacy, a rescue group which can be found on Facebook and which helps stray and missing cats. If you’d like to donate to them, too, their PayPal account name is lillyslegacy@hotmail.com.
Le sapin de Noël

13/12/2015

Our Yule tree is up! Hurrah!

Cat Daddy insisted on choosing the biggest and puffiest tree of the lot, then, when it wouldn’t fit in the house, complained that “we” had made an error of judgement, but it was definitely worth all the pain and heartache. Something about decorating a festive tree caresses the soul in a way that you wouldn’t understand unless you actually do it, although Louis Catorze didn’t appear to agree; he showed mild curiosity and interest, but this lasted all of ten seconds before he clambered onto his daddy’s lap and fell asleep. And long may his indifference continue: I would be very cross indeed to come home one day and find our beautiful tree toppled, chewed, urinated upon or worse. (Actually, there isn’t really anything worse than “urinated upon”, is there? That’s about as bad as it gets.)

I couldn’t resist a photo of our tree topper, which Cat Granny gave me a few years ago (although not for this purpose, I suspect). I think this pretty much sums up the hierarchy in this household, with Le Roi at the uppermost point and the rest of us … well … wherever.
Ma peau est parfaite!

12/12/2015

Someone is highly pleased with themselves because they’re 100% scab-free!

I’m quite staggered by the speed at which the steroids have worked. When I look at pictures of the little sod taken just 3 weeks ago, he looked so different. And the change in his personality is astounding; whereas previously we would have to drag his arse out of the Forbidden Greenhouse and force him to interact with us, now he won’t shut up or leave us alone.

My one and only wish this festive season was for Louis Catorze to be well, and it’s incredible to think that it’s steadily becoming more of a reality than a mere prospect.
Papa s’énerve

06/12/2015

I came downstairs this morning to find the living room looking like this, and my initial thought was, “How cute: Cat Daddy has set up a viewing platform for his boy to watch the world go by.”

However, the truth was somewhat different; it turned out that, late last night, after I had gone to bed, Cat Daddy had heard a commotion outside and gone to investigate. And, as soon as the front door was open, Louis Catorze had bolted off into The Forbidden Front and refused to come back.

The shutters were open so that Cat Daddy could keep a lookout for Catorze’s pathetic face meowing to be let in again. The Fortnum and Mason box thing was where Cat Daddy spent ages sitting, because he couldn’t see out properly from the sofa, and the stool was in place not as a viewing platform but as a resting place for the bottle of wine he needed to fuel his vigil.

“Can you believe it?” Cat Daddy sighed. “I didn’t dare go to bed leaving him outside at The Front. Yet, every time I tried to catch him, he’d run away, then stop and scream for a bit, then run further away. So I had to sit there until really late and wait for him to decide to come back.”

“At least we’ve learned that he comes back,” I said.

“Yeah,” Cat Daddy countered, “but we’ve also learned that he’s a little shit.”

Oh dear. Maybe Louis Catorze needs to be told that, if he keeps up this kind of behaviour, Papa Noël won’t be stopping by …
Santé!

02/12/2015

Do cats have an OFF button? Or, at the very least, a LOW POWER button? Louis Catorze is driving us crazy with his naughtiness at the moment.

His lust for play has reignited, and he’s started to let out little “Waaah!” sounds as he chases his toy. If he sees us in the kitchen through the patio doors, he refuses to use the cat flap and screams to be let in. He can be frighteningly convincing, pawing at the glass and looking utterly fearful for his life yet, if we ignore the little weasel for long enough – usually a minute or two – he will come in of his own accord, up-tailed, chirpy and smug, as if saying, “Et voilà! I didn’t need you after all.” He’s also starting to go out for longer at night, as his big brother Luther used to do, and rolls in just before my alarm goes off, soaking wet, shrieking in my ear and with that vile, stomach-churning wet dog smell. Yuck.

His eyes now look exactly like the eyes of a normal cat, with no leathery, bald bits. The horrible under-chin scabs are disappearing, with fur growing back. And I suspect his annoyingness is down to the fact that he’s happier and feeling much better. So, in all, things are looking up for the little sod.

This time last year he looked like crap and was sad, and the year before he was even worse, so I’m excited beyond belief at the prospect of Louis Catorze’s first festive season, to my knowledge, in good health. Here he is, drinking to that!
La folie du Roi Soleil

29/11/2015

Pour l’amour du ciel, Louis Catorze! He’s never exactly done things as most normal cats would do them, but over the last few days he’s taken nutso behaviour to new heights. The photo shows him, this morning, having scaled the bookcase (for the first time ever) to paw at thin air and shout at the ceiling.

I don’t know what they put in that steroid shot, but they should bottle it and sell it. Oh, hang on …

Cat Daddy keeps telling me that this change has come about purely because Louis Catorze is drugged up to the eyeballs, and that I shouldn’t read too much into it. But, equally, could it be that the improvement in his physical symptoms is simply causing some sort of innate nutsoism to manifest itself? Either way, it’s delightful to see him this way because a shouty, energetic cat is a cat who’s enjoying life. Nothing was more heartbreaking than when he spent all day under the bed, emerging only for occasional food and use of les toilettes.

I had a wonderful response from fellow cat freaks when I opened up the steroids-or-no-steroids debate and, the more I think about it and see my boy’s new-found joie de vivre, the more I’m inclined to consider steroids for him. I’m aware that they could cause complications long-term; however, Louis Catorze isn’t aware of this, nor would he give a shit if he knew. As others pointed out, even if he could think long term (or just think, full stop), what the poor little sod probably wants more than anything is to feel better now.
J’adore les stéroïdes

28/11/2015

It’s only been a few days since Louis Catorze’s trip to the vet, but already he is visibly better. His chin feels ugly as hell but it’s clearly healing, and the fur is filling out nicely around his eyes again. His spirits are also lifting, and he’s gradually getting back to being that sparky, chatty, annoying little sod that we know and love (and sometimes want to slap).

The difference in him is so pronounced that Cat Daddy and I have even been talking about the long-term use of steroids and whether they’re really so bad (especially given that the alternative is itchy skin, sore eyes and weeping open wounds). I am under no illusions that a cat like Louis Catorze will live to 20, or even 10, but I would far rather he live a shortish but happy life than a longer life of physical discomfort and depression. (Yes, he really does become depressed when his symptoms are at their worst.) A steroid shot every few months could even negate the need for his Atopica which, whilst non-steroid, is by no means without its long-term problems, too. And, of course, we wouldn’t have to trap, immobilise and syringe him every few days, which would be wonderful (especially as he has figured out how to wriggle free from my iron-fisted scruffing stranglehold – how he learned that is beyond me).

I never liked the idea of steroids before, but seeing my boy looking so much happier is starting to make me wonder. I guess it’s worth a bit of research and a conversation with the vet at some stage? If any of his followers have any steroid tales to tell, whether good or bad, I would love to hear them.
Du bon comportement

24/11/2015

Yesterday we took Louis Catorze to the vet because we were worried about the state of his poor, shredded chin.

Luckily he was in a docile and malleable mood because the builders had been over and he’d spent the afternoon trying to snuggle them, so Cat Daddy had no difficulty getting him into La Cage. And, whilst at the vet’s, other than a mild amount of whimpering, Catorze actually behaved himself. No staff were violently assaulted, no blood was drawn, no dignity was lost (this time).

He needed an antibiotic shot, as I suspected, but also a steroid shot to try and calm the itching and inflammation. I don’t like the idea of steroids – in fact, I don’t really like medication, full stop – but it was either that or increase his Atopica syringings to once a day for a few weeks. The process of trapping and medicating him every 2 days is quite horrific as it is, plus the results we’ve seen so far from Atopica are reasonable but not great, so we really didn’t see the sense in imposing further trauma on him (and us).

An alternative to the steroid injection, the vet said, was a course of steroid tablets. Louis Catorze and tablets? Non, non et trois fois non.

There was barely a murmur from Le Roi on the way home and, when we released him from La Cage, astonishingly, he trotted happily out with his tail up. He then spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the sofa with us. (Cat Daddy just read that bit over my shoulder and muttered, “Yeah, but it’s not gonna bring that £60 vet fee back, is it?” I can’t argue with that.)

I really hope that being such a good boy is a sign that Louis Catorze is feeling better.
La tristesse durera

22/11/2015

If Louis Catorze and I were a celebrity couple, we’d have broken up ages ago due to “Conflicting Work Schedules”; we’re simply not home and awake for long enough, and at the same time, to really make the most of each other. However, today, most unusually, he actually wanted to hang out with me during the day. And, because this was the first time in ages that I could look at him in proper daylight (the lighting in Le Château, like Le Roi himself, is not the brightest), I got to see the shocking state of his dear little face. Look away now if you’re in any way squeamish.

His under-chin area is a mass of what looks like both dried and partially-dried blood, and I suspect it needs cleaning but I daren’t try myself for fear of making it worse. Every so often he rubs his chin against my knuckles and whimpers, presumably because it hurts, and, the last time he did this, he rubbed so vigorously that the skin broke and clear fluid went all over my hand. Quite frankly this made me feel ill, but I’d rather he scratched in a controlled way against my soft fingers than in a frenzied way with his sharp claws whilst itch-yelping. Ugh. The sacrifices we make for our “pointless pieces of fur” (which is what Cat Daddy calls Louis Catorze when he’s cross with him).

The only reason I’m not rushing him to an emergency vet right now is because, inexplicably, he’s purring, relaxed and happy to be around me. In fact, he won’t leave me alone. But I think he’s going to have to go to the vet at some point next week.

Please wish him – and the poor veterinary staff – good luck.
On peut détruire ce qu’on a écrit, mais on ne peut pas le déécrire

21/11/2015

Poor Catorze isn’t looking so good these days. His right eye has lost so much fur all the way around that he looks like Alex Delarge from A Clockwork Orange. And, last night, the dreadful itch-yelp returned; this is the ear-splitting sound that he makes when he scratches and breaks the skin.

We’re doing everything as we did in September/October, when he was looking his best, so we have no idea whatsoever why things have turned to merde now. It’s frustrating beyond belief. But the good news is that it’s not affecting his mood in the way it has before; although he’s lost a little of his Chat Noir sparkle, he still manages to find the inclination to cuddle us on the sofa in the evenings. And he has taken to having Post-Meds Cuddles with Cat Daddy whenever he medicates him (whereas I just get claws and teeth when it’s my turn).

We have tried so hard to find a pattern to Louis Catorze’s flare-ups and have failed so far, but this will be the third November in a row which has seen a downturn in his condition. (He wasn’t with us in November 2013 but, having seen the awful photos taken in January 2014, it would make sense that November was around the time things began to slide, to reach their nadir 2 months later.)

There is clearly something in the house or the winter environment that is less present at other times of the year and, whatever it is, it was present both at Le Palais and at his previous foster home too. I just wish I knew what the heck it could be.
Sous mon parapluie, pluie, pluie

17/11/2015

This afternoon and evening they issued a severe weather warning in some parts of the U.K.: gales, heavy rain, possible flash flooding, you name it. How typical, then, that Louis Catorze should choose today to slip unseen out of the house whilst Cat Daddy was chaining up his bike outside, and end up stuck out at The (Forbidden) Front for ages.

On my arrival home, after working late, I was greeted by a yowling black cat in the front garden, and I knew immediately that no other cat would be stupid enough to be out in this weather. Luckily for Catorze, when our new media unit arrived we dumped all the packaging temporarily in the front garden, along with the old unit (I know – we’re a classy bunch) so he had been using it as a kind of makeshift Anderson shelter. And it was somewhat reassuring to know that he’d probably been there the whole time and hadn’t felt the slightest inclination to go wandering.

Le Roi is now safe, dry and pitter-pattering about Le Château, chirping and trilling. “It sounds like he’s asking us to switch off the storm so that he can go out,” said Cat Daddy. “Well, even if I could, I wouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a little shit.”
On parle du loup

12/11/2015

Louis Catorze’s new favourite place to sleep is the laundry basket. This is not ideal, by any means, as dead skin cells on dirty clothes are like an all-you-can-eat banquet to dust mites, but I guess it’s slightly preferable to the Forbidden Greenhouse. (I asked Cat Daddy if we could lay a clean towel on top of the pile of clothes in the laundry basket, to prevent Louis Catorze’s body from making contact with the dirty clothes. He said no.)

Unfortunately the allergy is back, in spite of our sustained efforts with the anti-allergy and anti-dust mite measures. The edges of his eyes are starting to look thick, bald and puffy again, and his chin area is quite horrible to look at and touch. On the positive side, it doesn’t seem to be affecting his spirits too much and he’s still managing to drive us insane with his stupid shit.

His latest “thing” is to become super-vocal, and by this I don’t simply mean he meows more: he’s taken to howling when he comes into the room, simply to announce his arrival, and he actually flings his head back with his chin pointing to the sky, like a coyote baying at the moon. It’s quite hilarious to watch at times. Mind you, I wish someone would tell him that 4am is not one of those times. And, naturellement, Louis Catorze won’t do it whilst being filmed.

This week he needs to have a fur sample retested by the bioenergetics company, and his pendant – which I’ve only just found again after he kicked it under the bed – reprogrammed in line with the new results. I don’t know how they will do it or whether it will help, but, as the silly sod has over-scratched and drawn blood yet again, I need to do SOMETHING.
Le Roi est rapide: vive Le Roi!

07/11/2015

We had Louis Catorze at “Bonjour” … or so we thought. I lured him into bed with fake cuddles whilst Cat Daddy snuck downstairs and placed some mineral water bottles in front of the cat flap to stop him running out. When I knew that the syringe was loaded and ready (which was communicated in code by text message), I herded Louis Catorze downstairs like a sheepdog with a gaggle of geese. (Is it even possible to “herd” just one animal? Oh well. I did.)

Louis Catorze trotted unsuspectingly towards the cat flap, where Cat Daddy waited with the syringe hidden behind his back. Then, as if somehow alerted to what was about happen, he gathered speed, whipping past Cat Daddy’s ankles and leaving him clumsily grabbing at thin air, shimmied around/through (I couldn’t say which preposition were more appropriate, as it happened too fast) our mineral water barricade and escaped into the safety of the garden. Before we could even say “le petit salaud”, he had scooted to the end of the garden where, alas, he was foiled by the clothes horse. Cat Daddy promptly caught up with him and got him well and good.

“Oh well,” said a friend, when I recounted the tragic tale later on. “It’s not as if you have to do this very often. It’s only once a month, isn’t it?”

“Erm, no. Two to three times a WEEK,” I replied.

“Oh!” she gasped, taking an extra deep breath. “In that case, you should be better at it by now, especially if he’s as thick as you say. It’s a bit embarrassing that you were both almost outwitted by a stupid cat.”

Thanks. YOU come and medicate him next time, then.
Joyeuse Halloween!

31/10/2015

Halloween, All Hallow’s Eve, Samhain … whatever you may call it, it’s finally here, mes amis! This festival is known for many things including the concept of disorder and the natural law of things being turned on its head, and today is no exception here at Le Château. The annoying furniture company who have unreasonably and unjustifiably retained our money for 3 months, have finally paid up. The missing John Lewis vouchers that Cat Daddy has been complaining about for ages, have turned up. And we have found Louis Catorze’s Achilles heel: the humble clothes horse.

Cat Daddy placed two of them in front of the Forbidden Greenhouse temporarily, because we needed room to set up our new TV unit. And, hilariously, it seems that Louis Catorze can no longer get in. I’m not joking: HE GENUINELY HAS NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. Here he is, looking highly confused at this recent development and thinking, “The bastards have done this délibérément.”

Yes, I am fully aware that there are gaps which any normal cat could shimmy under, squeeze through or leap over. However, this is Louis Catorze we’re talking about. Or, as some of his wonderful online fans so brilliantly summed it up, #becauseRoi.

So, with the Forbidden Greenhouse inaccessible, he’s given up hiding in there and is happily washing his arse on a clean, anti-allergy bed, safe from dust, fireworks and marauding adolescents. My Halloween will certainly be happier knowing that he’s out of mischief. Hope you all have a wonderful day, and that your furry overlords and overladies stay safe tonight.