louiscatorze.com

Je crie, donc je suis

recent posts

about

Sa Majesté Louis Catorze, Le Roi Soleil, supreme ruler of Le Château, sworn enemy of canine foe and scourge of Ocado delivery drivers.

  • Un anneau pour les gouverner tous

    Cat Daddy has treated me to one of those Oura fitness tracker rings. As well as monitoring all sorts of things such as sleep and heart rate, it also looks unbelievably cool. 

    Setting up these electronic devices is always easy when it works, less easy when it doesn’t, and downright bloody impossible when you have a cat clambering all over you and being a massive shite.

    Can you guess in which of the above categories I belong? Go on, take your time. 

    Because the Oura ring charger isn’t the standard USB-sized one that we all know, I had to go into the kitchen to hunt for Cat Daddy’s MacBook charger which fits. Louis Catorze followed me, screaming and screaming. Then, when it was time to pair my ring with the app via Bluetooth, the little sod lost his shit completely, climbing up my body and demanding to be held. 

    So I had to complete the set-up process standing up, using one hand only and holding Catorze with the other. Luckily he is small enough for me to be able to do so. And, equally luckily, the bit of the Oura ring that monitors stress levels hadn’t had a chance to kick in at that point, otherwise my baseline reading would have gone rocketing through the roof. 

    Yes, I did consider ticking both “I have small kids” (meaning him) and “I share my bed with someone” (also meaning him).

    Have I made the right decision, deciding to embark upon weeks, months and years of being told exactly how many times something pisses me off or wakes me up in the night? 

    No need to wonder what this something might be, of course. We already know. 

    “One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne.”

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

  • On peut utiliser la technologie pour le meilleur ou le pire

    How has technology changed your job?

    Well, there was never any of this kind of shit before the internet, that’s for sure:

    L’imparfait
    Yes, this actually happened.
    Dormir, c’est du temps perdu
    So did this.

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

  • La boîte de Pandore 

    Cat Daddy and I really enjoy shopping at the plastic-free bulk foods shop in Chiswick. There’s not much there for Louis Catorze on account of, erm, most of their stock being vegan and him not, but it’s a great place for treats for ourselves.

    But we love the shop even more after this little card came with our last order: 

    The fact that it’s a Chat Noir makes this even better.

    However, we didn’t gift the cardboard box to Catorze; he already claims any box that he’s not allowed to have, ignoring the ones that we give to him, so there’s no point. We gave him this one, and he didn’t set paw inside it until we told him he wasn’t allowed to do so.

    And these ones below were all stacked up in one vertical column, ready to be put out for the bin men, until the little sod managed to upend the uppermost ones (we still don’t understand how). He then crawled inside to investigate the cause of the fall, even though he knew it was him: 

    Bastard cat.

    Do you have a Cat In Box story? Even if it’s just “Cat saw box and climbed inside, The End”, I’d still like to hear it. 

    Another one earmarked for the bin men. (The box, I mean. Not Catorze.)
    Comfortable?

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

  • La joie du printemps

    *WARNING: IF YOU ARE IN ANY WAY WEAK-STOMACHED, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.*

    The day after the Spring Equinox, Cat Daddy, Louis Catorze and I went outside to survey the grounds of Le Château. Our garden can be something of a cabinet of curiosities, with random things growing that we can’t identify and that we almost certainly didn’t plant, but we rather like this about it. 

    Or at least we did, until today.

    One of that day’s discoveries was a mossy-looking crop of something, with hairy, almost-black leaves. Cat Daddy was about to touch it, but then I screamed at him not to in case it was some freakish alien pathogen, so he poked it with a bamboo cane instead. 

    It wasn’t a plant. It was a dead mouse that a certain little sod had caught and saved for later. And the hairy growth around its midsection was mould. 

    Imagine, if you will, a mouse wearing a bearskin fur gilet, and you will have some idea of the horror that we encountered on that fateful day. 

    My sister: “I can’t picture what you’re describing at all.”

    Erm, will this help?

    A Pinterest impression of what we found. (The real photo is far too grim to post.)

    The only good thing about this story is that Catorze had the grace to leave it outside. We don’t know why – after all, his usual M.O. is to bring mice up to the bedroom – but we’ll take it. 

    And the worst thing about this, other than having to dispose of a rotting mouse sprouting hairy black tendrils, is that fact that I’d just – as in, LITERALLY THAT MORNING – bragged to my family over WhatsApp about the fact that my cat no longer hunts. 

    Oh, and whilst we were stood there, staring at the fur-gileted mouse and not knowing whether to believe our eyes, Catorze then sounded the dreaded hork-hork klaxon and puked all over the grape hyacinths at our feet. So much for the beauty and the romance of the Spring Equinox.

    With the summer and Rodent Duty still ahead of us, it’s only going to get worse, isn’t it? 

    Absolute bastard cat. 

    You know when they say, “The killer showed no remorse”? Yeah, that.

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

  • Quand vous devenez pessimiste, regardez une rose

    What do you wish you could do more every day?

    It’s not a wish anymore because I actually do it, although not quite every day. Stop wishing, if that’s what you’re doing, and actually do it. Life’s too short.

    Cat Daddy and I have started treating ourselves to fresh flowers once a month. It feels like a naughty indulgence, but it really lifts our spirits to have flowers in the house, and we’re supporting a lovely, ethical company, so it’s worth it. If you’ve never bought yourself flowers before – proper ones, not petrol station ones wrapped in cruddy plastic – then please do it, just once, and see how good it makes you feel.

    We haven’t been able to buy flowers regularly on account of Louis Catorze’s allergies, plus the list of non-cat-compliant plants is so long that we didn’t even think there were many options available to us. However, the amazing Arena Flowers offer a pet-friendly collection, although we’re alarmed that they would need to issue the warning in the second paragraph: 

    Who are these freaks who actually FEED flowers to their pets? Come on, we want names.

    Cat Daddy and I love our flowers. Catorze, however, couldn’t give a stuff and refused point-blank to pose properly next to them. No surprise there. 

    Nooo, not like that.
    Not brilliant but it’ll have to do.

    If you live in the UK, we highly recommend Arena Flowers. 

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

  • On perd son temps à cultiver les mots

    What one word describes you?

    Several words come to mind. None are repeatable in polite company. 

    Bastard cat. Oh wait, that’s two words.

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

  • Être dans la nature

    Louis Catorze’s summer mode has been officially activated. 

    It’s not summer yet. In fact, it’s not even spring. But the fact that it’s the wrong time has never stopped him from doing what he wants. A few rays of sunshine and he’s out … which makes it all the more insulting that he should run indoors to puke, then run back out again.

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: the little sod was OUTSIDE when he deployed the telltale hork-hork klaxon, but ran INSIDE to finish the job. The only possible reason for this is pure spite.

    Here he is, on the lookout for mischief. Let’s hope he reins it in a bit because he’s getting too old for nonsense (and so are we). 

    He still has the energy to jump up here and do whatever it is that he’s doing.

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

  • Aie confiance en toi-même, et tu sauras vivre

    Who is the most confident person you know?

    You all know the answer to this: it’s Louis Catorze. He struts his way through life assuming that everyone loves him.

    Not everyone DOES love him. But he couldn’t give the square root of a shit.

    Loving life, but not as much as he loves himself.

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

  • Tout ce dont j’ai besoin est l’air que je respire

    In what activities do you lose yourself?

    (Sorry, I couldn’t bear to end the sentence on a preposition, so I had to change the prompt.)

    Screaming. It’s by far Louis Catorze’s favourite thing in the world to do. And, sometimes, he screams himself into such a frenzy that there’s no air left in him.

    I filmed the video (below) right after I’d let Catorze into the attic bedroom, after initially shutting him out to get some peace. In between his bursts of affronted complaining, you can hear little gasps which sound as if he’s trying to squeeze out another scream which won’t come out. 

    I had hoped to give you the exact number of seconds elapsed, in case you wanted to cut to the gasps without having to sit through the main screaming, but the latest iOS update on my phone somehow no longer shows the seconds ticking by on videos. However, I can tell you that there’s one gasp about 20% of the way in, another close to 40%, and a third right at the end. 

    Calm down and take deep breaths.

    What’s happening? Is the little sod over-screaming to the point of losing his voice? Or running out of air? Should I be grateful that I am merely living in a house with him, as opposed to being trapped in a confined space, with his screams chipping away at the air supply and slowly suffocating us to death? 

    Apologies for my maniacal laughter in the video. The breathy wheezes are genuinely hilarious – although I will feel bad if they turn out to be some sort of undiagnosed, terminal lung condition. 

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

  • La couverture lestée (Partie 2) 

    Louis Catorze has just discovered the joy of attacking me through the weighted blanket. And, despite the blanket being quite robust, I can feel the his claws through it and they HURT. 

    He doesn’t do this to the blanket when it’s lying folded up, only when it’s on me. Which seems to disprove my original theory of the blanket being haunted and, instead, suggests that he’s just a massive shite. 

    Here he is, at it again. What is HAPPENING? 

    This is one of his less aggressive attacks. He always stops the really bad ones as soon as I pick up my phone.

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

  • Parler de taureaux, ce n’est pas comme être dans l’arène

    Have you ever heard it said that, sometimes, if you fight back against bullies, their behaviour becomes worse? Cat Daddy and I have just been to València* for a friend’s wedding, and we left Louis Catorze** in the care of Daughter Next Door. 

    *The fighting back.

    **The bully.

    We didn’t tell Catorze of our plans, and our intention was just to creep out quietly. But he caught us packing our suitcase, and then the screaming started. 

    He is sitting on Cat Daddy’s wedding shirt, with his arse right where Cat Daddy’s head would be.

    After eventually succeeding in making our escape, whilst on our way to our airport departure gate, we saw this sign: 

    Excusez-moi?

    Cat Daddy: “Animal Relief Area? Maybe we should go there – after all, we need relief from a certain animal. Or maybe València IS our Animal Relief Area.”

    That’s actually a fair point. 

    Anyway, after having a lovely time at the wedding, we returned home to this:

    Saint Jésus et tous ses anges.

    I filmed this cacophonous din just minutes after arriving home and, unlikely though it seems, it’s actually deteriorated since. 

    Cat Daddy: “We should never have gone away. Oh God.”

    Cat Daddy’s theory is that the screaming stems from separation anxiety, but that doesn’t explain how Catorze screams in exactly the same way whether he’s been apart from us for three weeks or thirty minutes. And besides, to have any form of anxiety, don’t you have to actually GIVE A SHIT? I don’t think anyone has ever accused the little sod of that.

    Any other possible explanations would be gratefully welcomed. 

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

  • L’éclat éternel de l’esprit immaculé

    What was the last thing you learned?

    I wish it were possible to unsee and/or unremember displeasing facts. Very little displeases me more than explicit talk of rear ends and bowel movements, but I’m sharing this information because most of my friends pick crud out of their cats’ eyes with their bare hands*. So they won’t lose any sleep over a bit of poo talk. 

    *YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

    The people to blame for this are Dr Anish Sheth, a gastroenterologist (who came up with the theory) and my friend AnnMarie (who shared the information with the world). 

    Have you ever witnessed Cat Zoomies aka The Mad Half Hour, when cats thunder around the house at top speed? Now, the link between this behaviour and bathroom business may not be immediately apparent. But, please, bear with me. According to Anish Sheth, “the distension that comes with the passing of a large stool causes the vagus nerve to fire, resulting in a drop in the heart rate and blood pressure which in turn decreases blood flow to the brain. The resulting mild lightheadedness can lead to a high and hence cat zoomies.”

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: we thought our cats were just being playful and quirky when they galloped around the house but, in actual fact, they’ve just had a massive shit. 

    Thank you, Dr Sheth and AnnMarie, for crushing my blissful ignorance. Life will never be the same again. 

    We know what he’s just been doing.

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

  • Hurler c’est agir 

    What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

    “What’s the matter with your cat?” 

    WE DON’T KNOW. NOBODY KNOWS. IF WE KNEW, WE WOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. 

    Louis Catorze’s screaming is getting worse. I know that I complain about it all the time (although still nowhere near as much as Cat Daddy does), but it never used to be like this: 

    Cat Daddy: “It’s actually starting to depress me.”

    Now it’s like this all the time, and I wondered if something could be genuinely wrong with Catorze.

    Cat Daddy: “Mentally wrong, maybe. He’s gone ****ing demented.”

    Not long after this video was filmed, a (male) friend visited us. As you know, Catorze loves boys, so this did nothing to calm the situation. In fact, it made things worse. 

    The little sod circled our friend, then jumped up onto the arm of the sofa so that he could nuzzle his upper body, all the while screaming himself witless. It probably would have gone on all night had Cat Daddy’s phone not rung in the middle of it all. 

    Cat Daddy, picking up his phone and turning to our friend: “Oh, it’s YOU calling me! You must have pocket-dialled me.”

    Our friend: “No, my phone’s not even in my pocket. I put it down over there.”

    It turned out that, in his haste to snuggle our friend, Catorze had stepped on the phone, which was resting on the arm of the sofa, and called Cat Daddy. It’s quite fortunate that it was him, because anyone else would have answered the call to be greeted by a cacophony of over-excited Catorzian screaming and purring. Trust me, nobody wants or deserves that. 

    Anyway, after having a cup of tea and trying to hold some sort conversation over the screaming, Cat Daddy and our friend went out, leaving Catorze stuck with the third favourite human of the day. And then he shut up.

    Seriously, what can we do? Is this our life now?

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

  • Le sommeil est la meilleure des méditations (Partie 2) 

    Oh dear God, he did it again. Louis Catorze went into that deep, comatose sleep where no amount of poking would wake him. And this time his eyes were half-open, like a vampire. 

    I didn’t keep prodding for long, because I could see that he was breathing. But it was weird. And I forgot to video it again.  

    The little sod is in otherwise very good health: he’s active, vocal (!) and eating well. So I guess this is just another weird quirk that we can add to the list of Roi Mysteries? 

    What are you playing at, little Roi?

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