louiscatorze.com

Je crie, donc je suis

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

  • 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

  • Tu ne sais pas à quel point tu me rends malade 

    I have no proof of this because I wasn’t quick enough with my phone when it happened. Yet, since you know all the ridiculous things that Louis Catorze does, I can say this utterly fearlessly and without worry about being disbelieved or scorned.

    Cat Daddy started playing the guitar in the next room, and Catorze – who was on my lap – RETCHED. 

    I suspect that the little sod had not long since wolfed down a bowl of food too quickly. But it’s funnier to think his hatred of the Discordant Instrument of Doom is such that it triggers his gag reflex.

    Even if I tried a thousand more times, I would probably never be able to capture this on video. And, if I were to try, Cat Daddy might suggest helping me out by playing the guitar more often (trust me, nobody wants that). So here, below, is an old photo of Catorze, with a very similar head and mouth position to the one that I saw on that fateful, hilarious day.

    You’ll just have to imagine the sound: the standard cat puke warning signal as lead vocal, with a backing track of Eric Clapton.

    To be honest, Wonderful Tonight makes me want to puke, too.

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

  • Le baîllement-bavardage

    You have probably seen a cat yawn-meow, even though you are unlikely to have filmed it. But how about a yawn-chatter? 

    Yes, that’s right, a yawn-chatter. It’s when a cat’s bird-chatter utterance morphs into a yawn. 

    No? Well, I may be able to help you out there.

    When I was searching my phone for something else entirely (I can’t even remember what that was anymore), I found this video of Louis Catorze at it. Merely witnessing this is quite something. Catching it on camera is like seeing a UFO shower, the Loch Ness Monster and the aurora borealis, all at the same time. 

    This was filmed in October last year, and I am still perplexed at how I just FORGOT that I had evidence of such a wonder: 

    Sorry … what?

    You’re welcome.

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

  • Une livraison très spéciale 

    The Yodel delivery driver just dropped off a box of Orijen. He also dropped off Louis Catorze, who was out at The Front causing havoc. We had absolutely no idea that he’d escaped.

    Cat Daddy, who had answered the door: “The driver said Louis was screaming outside.”

    Me: “He didn’t actually say the word “screaming”, did he?”

    Apparently he did. 

    So now we can add Yodel to the list of people that we’re too ashamed to face ever again. 

    Because we didn’t know about the screaming chaos, we weren’t able to film it (although the Yodel driver probably did). However, here is an old video showing exactly how it must have looked and sounded: 

    No, I won’t sign for this parcel.

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

  • Plus c’est la même chose  

    The pitiful wailing in the video below was actually AFTER Louis Catorze had had a few minutes to calm down. When we first stuffed him into his transportation pod, his guttural screams were absolutely infernal, the kind that usually require an exorcist.

    How to make a three-mile journey feel like a trek across the world.

    Can you guess where we were going? 

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: it was steroid shot time, so we were off to Catorze’s least favourite place in the world. 

    The little sod is the same weight as he was the last time. The vet asked us about his eating, drinking and toileting and, usually, we aren’t really able to comment much on the last one as Catorze always goes to the bathroom outside (we hope). However, this time Cat Daddy was able to confirm his boy’s substantial poos as he actually witnessed one just before our appointment, right on our rhubarb patch. (“Eurgh, I can actually see it coming out!” Well, nobody’s forcing you to look.)

    Guests: if Cat Daddy offers you any home-grown rhubarb, say no.

    As ever, it was stony silence in the car all the way home; Catorze only ever screams on the way there, never coming back. And he spent the rest of the afternoon whining at Cat Daddy and clawing his arm when he wasn’t quick enough in dishing out the cuddles. 

    I’m somewhat heartened by the fact that Catorze hasn’t lost any more weight, so at least his downward spiral seems to have come to a halt. Let’s hope that the spring will see him chubbing up. 

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

  • Ce qui est mouillé ne craint pas la pluie

    What advice would you give to your teenage self?

    Since Louis Catorze is a teenager right now (in human years, anyway), his advice to himself remains current, and is: “Keep them guessing.” The little sod adheres rigidly to this motto, every single day; Cat Daddy and I are perpetually left wondering what the hell.

    (That last sentence is complete, by the way. Not “… what the hell something something”. Just “… what the hell”.)

    After eating his evening meal – well, one of his many evening meals, since the greedy guzzler just can’t seem to stop scoffing lately – Catorze went into the dining room to gad about. This is quite normal, and we are used to hearing paper rustling and things being knocked around as he parkours. However, on this occasion, the little sod emerged WET. 

    There is absolutely no accessible liquid in that room, apart from my massive jars of kombucha which are far too heavy for a 2.83kg cat to upend. Those jars are still intact and exactly as I left them, and everything else is in sealed bottles. So where did the liquid come from? And – shudder – WHAT IF IT’S NOT WATER?

    Cat Daddy’s theory is that perhaps Catorze “purred all over himself”. He has a tendency to dribble whilst purring – Catorze, I mean, not Cat Daddy – and the idea of him having so much fun trashing the dining room that he purred throughout, whilst completely absurd, is not entirely impossible.

    I still haven’t been brave enough to investigate the nature and location of the spillage/leakage. That said, it wouldn’t surprise me not to find a single trace, leaving me forever wondering exactly what happened in that room to my silly cat who is old enough to know better. 

    Weirdo.

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

  • Au printemps de quoi rêveras-tu? 

    When British people say, “The weather is getting warmer”, what they probably mean is that it’s 0.01°C less cold than it was yesterday. This time, however, Louis Catorze can feel it. And the little sod has been outside for hours. 

    Catorze absolutely LOVES being outside, and his favourite spot is his plinth underneath the outdoor table. It gives him a better vantage point than just being on the ground, plus he’s cushioned and protected from the rain. And, in the event of other animals rocking up and things going awry, he’s close enough to the house to be able to dart back quickly. 

    (Catorze would be more inclined to stay and fight than retreat, much to Cat Daddy’s joy and my disappointment. Still, the retreat option is there, should he choose it. Which he won’t.)

    I can’t take a picture of him on his plinth because, when he hears me approaching, he runs to greet me, chirping and trilling. But here’s a picture of him taken last summer, making the most of his happy place: 

    Loving life (whilst meowing at me to get lost).

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

  • Et Dieu créa l’homme  

    Who are your favourite people to be around?

    Louis Catorze loves men. Family members, friends, tradesmen, random passers-by in the street, whoever. He’s not fussy; any man will do.

    We have no idea how a cat can know what a man is and what a woman is, but he does. And, whenever we have company, he heads for the male guests like a heat-seeking missile. Even when in Le Cône and off his nut on Gabapentin, he was able to drag himself off a female friend’s lap and onto that of her husband.

    Here is just a small selection of the men that Catorze has loved: 

    • Cat Daddy (of course) 
    • Dog Daddy 
    • Cocoa the babysit cat’s daddy 
    • Cocoa the babysit cat’s human brother 
    • Daddy Next Door
    • That Neighbour 
    • The pub landlord*
    • The pub landlord’s son*
    • Matt and Dave, the removal men
    • Basil the locksmith 
    • Chris the heating engineer 
    • Leo, who delivered our Christmas tree
    • Our friend, who let himself in with a key that we’d left outside for him**
    • Multiple Ocado delivery drivers (but Krzysztof driving the Lemon Van was his favourite)
    • The bloke who fixed the dishwasher 

    *They came here, by the way. Catorze didn’t go to the pub, although we’re sure that he’d have an absolute blast if he were to do so.

    **This event proved that, in the event of a burglary, Catorze would either be worse than useless (cuddling the burglars) or a very effective deterrent indeed (annoying the merde out of them enough to make them abort their mission).

    Ladies: if you fancy meeting Catorze but want his full attention, come alone. Seriously, if you bring a man with you, he’ll bid you a friendly bonjour upon arrival, then spend the rest of the visit all over your male companion. 

    Gentlemen: just come on over. How can you resist this inviting little face?

    “Où sont les hommes?”
    Royal Mail don’t mention miscreant cats on their website, so that must mean we’re all good, non?

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

  • La couverture lestée

    One of my lovely friends sent me a weighted blanket as a recovery present. (The one and only good thing about recovering from surgery is that people send you some really good stuff.)

    If you’ve never heard of one of these before, it’s exactly as it sounds: a blanket that’s heavier than it looks, due to lots of little weights – in this case, glass beads – that have been sewn into it. It’s supposed to aid recovery and good sleep, although if you live with a cat who has a penchant for 3am parkour – a couple of nights ago, he knocked the red lamp off the bedside table in the middle of the night – then that probably negates all the benefits. 

    The blanket was for ME. Yet we all knew that this would happen, didn’t we? 

    Just make yourself comf- … oh right.

    Yes, Louis Catorze absolutely loves it, merci for asking.

    He already has multiple sleeping spots. But you already know this, don’t you? And so does he. 

    Attacking someone through the weighted blanket is also great fun.

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