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.

  • Les chats dominent le monde 

    What technology would you be better off without, and why?

    Coincidentally, a week or so before WordPress issued this prompt, my students and I were having a very similar discussion in class. The brief was to name an invention that they would erase from history, although there was a catch: they would also have to live without the benefits of anything influenced by this invention. 

    Kid 1 suggested erasing the wheel, “just to see what happened”. After realising the variety of exotic food that this would exclude, and the fact that we would have to live on “boring British food, like strawberries”, we decided that this wasn’t worth the risk. 

    Kid 2 suggested the atomic bomb, because “anything that killed that many people for no reason couldn’t be good”. Then Kid 3 pointed out that electricity was indirectly invented as a result of this. Since he’s a highly intelligent Einstein-in-waiting, I didn’t even bother to Google to see if this was correct and just took his word for it. 

    Kid 4 wanted to erase social media, as a statement about online bullying. Most of the class appeared to be in agreement with this until Kid 1 piped up, “But, without social media, there wouldn’t be any cat videos!”

    A chilling silence befell the group. 

    “But we could still watch them on YouTube?”

    “No, YouTube is still social media because people comment and stuff.”

    “So how would we share cat videos?”

    “We’d have to record them on one of those old video cameras, and then pass the big tape thing around.”

    Suddenly, eking out a miserable existence eating boring British berries, in the dark, didn’t seem quite so bad. Foregoing cat videos, on the other hand, would be a step too far.

    Here is one of my favourite cat videos ever. (I’ve posted it before, but it’s worth repeating.)

    And here is one of my favourite videos of Louis Catorze, greeting me in the street when I arrived home from work. I always share this with people when they don’t believe me when I describe how loud he is: 

    No, nothing is wrong. This is just his normal voice.

    I bet you’re grateful for social media now, aren’t you? 

    You’re welcome. 

    Giving “Princess and the Pea” vibes.

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

  • Un repas de fête digne d’un Roi

    Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?

    *WARNING: DO NOT ALLOW YOUR PETS TO SEE THIS POST.*

    When Louis Catorze was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism I was determined to be strict with his diet, allowing zero human food, in order to aid his recovery. However, now that he is chubbing up and doing much better, I have started to feel more relaxed about letting him have the odd treat in tiny amounts. 

    We don’t prepare celebratory meals for him for special occasions; at most, we give him a few slivers of jambon de Bayonne and of organic aged Comté from the deli. Most of my friends think this is enormously extravagant, and they ask why we don’t just give him supermarket meat and cheese. Erm, because he refuses it. That’s why.

    Then my friend Monique sent me this video.

    Watching this lady (the one in the video, I mean, not my friend Monique) prepare her cat’s breakfast has made me feel far less guilty about the treats we give to Catorze, yet also desperately negligent and inadequate. Trust me, these two seemingly-disparate emotions really can exist side by side. 

    I have bought caviar once in my entire life, in about 2001. Oscar has it every day. (Photo from the YouTube video.)

    (And, no, we didn’t understand “chargers”, either. Is that American for “plates”? US followers, help us out, please.)

    Bear in mind, too, that this video wasn’t even filmed during the festive period; this was just a regular, everyday breakfast. We would LOVE to be a fly on the wall when Oscar eats his Christmas dinner. 

    Cheer up, Oscar. You’re eating better than most humans in the world. (Photo from the YouTube video.)

    In fact, we would love to be Oscar, full stop. 

    Catorze expectantly awaits his caviar. He might be waiting a long time.

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

  • Un coup de froid

    We have had a few freezing cold days in London. There was even a brief flurry of snow on Thursday but this didn’t settle, due to the ground being too wet, much to my students’ disappointment.

    Just as the sun is retreating, the cold weather has drawn the mighty Sun King inwards, and the little sod has been spending most of his time on our laps. Yes, this includes the second favourite lap in the household (mine). And I will gladly accept whatever meagre crumbs of affection that he casts my way, even if he is only doing it to stay warm. 

    Here he is, on my lap, looking uncharacteristically elegant – well, apart from the old man white hairs and the specks of dust:

    Smart boy.

    Perhaps there is hope, after all, that he could produce a halfway-decent Official Winter Solstice Portrait (Cat Daddy: “It could be the last one he ever does”) in the next few weeks? 

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

  • Attention aux chats!

    What are your favourite animals?

    Definitely cats. Oh, wait. Maybe not.

    Every now and again, I read something which reminds me that, actually, Louis Catorze isn’t the worst cat in the world. You cannot imagine the relief to find out that your cat is only moderately horrendous, as opposed to the absolute worst.

    A friend of mine told me about these Japanese street signs, which are exactly what they appear to be: they’re to warn hapless passers-by that marauding cats could attack at any minute. 

    Warning: marauding cat! (Photo from fakti.bg.)
    Warning: synchronised team of marauding ninja cats! (Photo from fakti.bg.)

    Now, Catorze can be a marauder from time to time but, in reality, the chances of being accosted in the street by him are fairly slim. Even if you happened to be walking past Le Château at the exact moment of his gadding about at The Front, it’s very rare for Catorze to follow anyone down the street (well, ok, apart from that one time). Plus the odds would be even further against you if you happened to be female.

    In Japan, however, the fact that there are so many of these warning signs, and in more than one area, suggests that this is a widespread issue, not just a one-off mishap. This is clearly something that happens a lot, with several cats. 

    Who are these predatory felines? What do they want? And is anyone tempted to send their bitter enemies over there, with pockets full of catnip, to find out? 

    Yes, he was mid-scream here.

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

  • Le champion du monde poids lourds 

    Louis Catorze’s cat-cousins Rodan and Mothra have just been to the vet. It wasn’t the most fun visit, especially for my poor Nephew 1 who was pissed on by Rodan. (Mental note: NEVER travel to the vet with the transportation pod on your knees, unless said pod is made of the same sturdy, impermeable material that they use to make the hulls of ocean liners.)

    Quote from Nephew 1: “I THOUGHT something was warm.”

    Eurgh. 

    Look at Rodan’s “Je ne regrette rien” face.

    Anyway, Rodan is 4.5kg and Mothra, 3.07kg. Catorze’s other cat-cousins, Otis and Roux, are between 3.5kg and 4kg. And his cat-auntie Zelva is, according to my mum, “just under 4kg”, although her floppy belly gives the illusion of more. (Zelva’s belly, I mean, not my mum’s.)

    Chonks (compared to Catorze, anyway).

    This makes Catorze, at 3kg exactly, the smallest cat in the family. I imagine every single one of you saw this coming. 

    Luckily his small stature doesn’t hold him back; what he lacks in physical oomph, he more than compensates in attitude and general bullshittery. I don’t suppose this comes as much of a surprise, either. 

    Don’t trust him.

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

  • Les instincts primaires 

    Do you trust your instincts?

    Fight, Flight or Freeze. That’s what they say living creatures are programmed to do, isn’t it, when faced with danger? Sadly I don’t think Louis Catorze received the memo; the silly sod wouldn’t know danger if it kicked him up the arse.

    I have witnessed his Fight, Flight and Freeze in action at various points in his life, but Fight is most certainly the default Catorzian setting. When he meets dogs, larger cats (mind you, they’re all larger than him) and foxes, he’ll gladly take them on.

    Flight is reserved for situations such as, erm, a teaspoon dropping onto the floor, or Cat Daddy reaching for the dreaded guitar. Yes, I know it would make far more sense for Catorze to choose Flight in the presence of potential predators, instead of cutlery and musical instruments. But that’s Catorze for you. 

    Freeze is something that we see very rarely in a cat as rambunctious as him; he’s never still, unless he’s asleep. However, Freeze makes the odd appearance when we shout “No!” at something we don’t want him to do, such as sticking his face in a cup of tea or digging up some plant that we want left alone. He halts for a split second, ears flicking back, proving that he’s not as stupid as he looks because he does actually understand commands. Unfortunately he just isn’t interested in following them. 

    So Freeze – actually more of a momentary pause than a proper Freeze – is often followed by him reattempting the undesirable action, unless we intervene. 

    To summarise, the Catorzian way is as follows: Fight is for meeting something likely/able to kill you, Flight when it’s something utterly benign, and Freeze when you want humans to think you might actually give a shit (when, in fact, you don’t).

    Therefore, no, we absolutely do not trust Catorze’s instincts. But, since he’s still managing to pitter-patter about the planet at the age of fifteen and a half, clearly he’s doing something right.

    As long as there’s no guitar, he’s a happy boy.

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

  • La première impression est la plus forte

    What’s the first impression you want to give people?

    Well, that rather depends on what cats want at the time. It might be food, or love. Or they might just want to gaslight their humans for fun.

    On our local neighbourhood Facebook page, people often post to announce that a starving stray cat has just turned up at their house. This is a trick that piss-taking cats have been playing since time began but, for whatever reason, we stupid humans are only just starting to get wise to it. For every ten stray cat posts, there are nine replies saying, “Oh, that’s Alfie from Whatever Road. Don’t believe his lies.” But it doesn’t stop us from posting to ask anyway. 

    Boots – he of the Chelsea/Crystal Palace collars – is another massive con artist. He picks on his stepbrother, fights with any animal that has a pulse, costs his mamma heaps of money and is generally a bit of a bastard. Yet, when he goes to the vet, he’s charming and impeccably-behaved in front of staff and affable towards other animals, all in an effort to make his mamma look like a delusional fantasist. In fact, he’s the only cat I know who loves going to the vet, because they roll out the red carpet for him and lavish him with praise every time. 

    “He’s so lovely and well-behaved!” Whatever.

    Louis Catorze is just as bad. As well as having a desperate, plaintive meow, Catorze has an additional weapon in his arsenal of deceit: looking like shite. When he screams at people, not only does he want attention but he wants, where possible, for others to look at him and either think he’s a stray or think we’re shit parents who haven’t been looking after him. It’s gaslighting of the highest order. So our biggest fear isn’t that Catorze might be kidnapped or run over, but that some well-intentioned citizen might scoop him up and deliver him to a rescue, thinking they’d done a good deed. 

    Here he is, doing his fake “I’m being kept prisoner!” voice. He isn’t. He just wanted to go out at The Front:

    All lies.

    In short, that first impression could be anything from “a bit neglected” to “profoundly suffering”. Whatever they may convey, cats are master manipulators so the truth is likely to be the opposite. 

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

  • La musique pour les feux d’artifice royaux 

    Despite not really minding fireworks all these years – in fact, he once moved up the stairs to get a better view through the hallway window – Louis Catorze took exception to the ones that he heard on 5th November.

    These days, our social media feeds fill up with firework precautionary advice from as early as the start of October, and I have always been grateful for the fact that we have never had to bother. In fact, we don’t even keep Catorze indoors when there are fireworks, because being imprisoned distresses him far more than the noise. (And, even if we did keep him in, he would only use his Cloak of Invisibility to sneak out.)

    Here is the Cloak, in action. You SEE how powerless we are against it?

    On 5th November, however, one particularly loud set of blasts at The Back sent him scuttling off to the living room, thoroughly unimpressed. Not long after that, the same happened at The Front so he scarpered to The Back again. Luckily he didn’t spend the whole evening cowering in fear; in fact, he had an otherwise perfectly pleasant evening. But he’s never been scared before. And, on that day, for a short while, he was. 

    I hope this isn’t something that will deteriorate with age. Assuming the little sod makes it to the next Diwali / Hallowe’en /Bonfire Night / whatever other tenuous occasion people might choose to light fireworks randomly in the street, I don’t want him to be afraid.

    So, next year, just in case, I will consult our dear friend Spotify for some banging classical tunes and stock up on Feliway. May my poor old boy never feel fearful again, not even for a second.

    Maybe the Diwali fireworks were more bearable because he had company?

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

  • Clouer ses couleurs au mât (Partie 4)

    Remember Boots and his Chelsea collars? The silly sod never seemed to hold onto them for very long, losing them all around the neighbourhood. He managed to get through around 9,963 of them before the Chelsea Megastore finally ran out. 

    That said, I’m sure that, if someone had put Chelsea accessories on me, I’d have done my utmost to lose them, too. 

    Since we voted to put Boots in Crystal Palace collars, he hasn’t lost a single one. He still wears the very first Crystal Palace collar placed upon him. Furthermore, the bell on the collar is larger and louder than the Chelsea one, and serves as a better warning of his impending approach to his stepbrother, Antoine. 

    Sadly it doesn’t seem to warn the local wildlife quite so effectively, as Boots – who was never that much of a hunter during his Chelsea days – has caught at least two rats since being Palace-collared, despite not being very well and on medication. On one of these occasions he had the whole body – or what was left of it – in his mouth, with the tail hanging out and slapping around. I don’t think his poor mamma will ever recover from that sight. Nor from that sound.

    So clearly Boots was never a Chelsea fan. He’s a Crystal Palace fan.

    Here is Boots, with collar, bell and fight-scuffed ears (to which we affectionately refer as his “scalloped pie dish ears”) on display, and looking rather pleased with himself: 

    Ding-a-ling.
    A small appetiser before his next ratty main course.

    And, astonishingly, Crystal Palace have been doing rather well since acquiring Boots as a fan. So maybe he will bring more luck to them than he has to his long-suffering mamma.

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

  • Un cœur avec du poil autour

    What is good about having a pet?

    I was about to answer this by saying, “Having someone love you unconditionally”, but then I remembered that Louis Catorze couldn’t give a shit whether I live or die. 

    So, erm, never mind. As you were.

    Ouch.

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

  • Louis et moi 

    What was your favourite subject in school?

    It won’t be a surprise to know that I loved French. In my very first vocabulary test (memorising and correctly spelling twenty or so classroom items, such as, erm, the blackboard and the chalk), I scored 100%. Because most students at my school weren’t really the full-marks type, news of this spread like wildfire. For that whole week, I had kids approaching me to ask if it were really true. (It would have been a strange sort of thing to spread as a fake rumour, but whatever.)

    These days, I am lucky enough to be able to teach French. Better yet, my A level students are huge animal lovers, and we always start our lessons with animal stories. One of them grew up in Canada, and she talks quite casually about the bears and coyotes encountered on her walks to school, in the same way that we in the UK might talk about seeing squirrels or pigeons.

    The class have got to know Louis Catorze quite well and, although this familiarity hasn’t quite extended to the realms of sharing Le Blog with them, they love hearing about his shitty behaviour because it reminds them that their own pets (two dogs and two cats between them) are wonderful. 

    We are currently studying a novel called No et Moi, whose major themes include marginalised people and systems that should look after them. We recently did a task about which systems that offer support in a person’s life, and it was very interesting to see how different minds work: one student chose official systems such as judiciary, healthcare and welfare, and the other went down the route of family, friends and pets. 

    We then had the following conversation, which I have translated into English: 

    Student 2: “I thought you’d like that one, Miss, because you have a cat! And pets comfort us when we’re feeling sad. Well, maybe not yours, but yeah.”

    Student 1: “And it’s been proven that pet owners have reduced stress levels. Maybe not yours, but yeah.”

    Student 2: “And just stroking a cat calms you down. Maybe not yours, but yeah.”

    Student 1: “And they just generally make your life better. Well, maybe not yours, but yeah.”

    Ok, I get the idea. My students are pretty nifty in their knowledge of No et Moi, but their understanding of all things Catorzian is utterly flawless. If there were an A level exam on Catorze, they’d be scoring full marks, for sure. 

    Reduced stress? Calms you down? Excusez-moi?

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

  • Le Seigneur Noir nous commande 

    We all know that Louis Catorze uses either creepy staring or screaming when he wants to get his way. 

    The creepy staring is usually deployed when he’s hungry. Despite being thicker than a concrete milkshake, Catorze knows perfectly well that, eventually, being stared at will make us feel so uncomfortable that we’ll end up dropping whatever we’re doing to make it stop. 

    As for the screaming, we still haven’t worked out what it is that he wants. Although, now that we know it’s a symptom of hyperthyroidism, we try harder to be more tolerant.

    One afternoon, when I was in the kitchen making a batch of kombucha, Catorze decided to unleash a creepy-staring assault on me. Luckily, because I was busy cutting up fruit and sterilising bottles, I was able to ignore him and skilfully avoid eye contact. Just like being the newbie in a maximum security penitentiary, your best bet is to just keep your head down and not respond. 

    Then the screaming started. 

    I continued to ignore Catorze. However, when he saw that neither creepy staring nor screaming were having the desired effect, the little sod reared up on his hind legs and dug his front claws into my shins. 

    Cat Daddy, without looking up from his phone: “He wants you to go into the living room.”

    We’ve been here before, Mesdames et Messieurs. Our cat has a favourite room in the house and he bullies us into going there, so that he can sit on our laps. And, now, he has tired of psychological intimidation and crossed the threshold into physical assault. Oh. Mon. Dieu. 

    Once I had bottled up the kombucha, I was finally ready to obey The Dark Master’s instructions. I dutifully went into the living room, settled down on my enormous full-body pillow with my legs outstretched and spread a blanket over me, tucking the edges underneath me as it was quite chilly. 

    That was when Catorze decided that he no longer wanted to follow me into the living room. 

    Instead he hovered around his papa whining like a dying dog, until Cat Daddy finally snapped, scooping Catorze up in one hand, dumping him on my lap and marching out again, closing the door behind him. And, of course, just as nature abhors a vacuum, a cat abhors a closed door. Even if it leaves him in a room that, only moments beforehand, he was desperate to go into. 

    Cue more dying-dog-meets-angry-poltergeist whining and scratching at the door, meaning I had to dislodge myself from my cosy blanket-cocoon to let him out again. 

    Someone, ANYONE, please remind me why we put up with this?

    Come on. Could YOU ignore this?

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

  • Le lendemain de la veille 

    It’s a horror film trope as old as time: a raging storm on Hallowe’en night, when any right-minded, God-fearing creature would be safely tucked up at home, with the doors locked.

    This means, of course, that going outside on such a night would be reserved for the following individuals: 

    • Those not in their right minds
    • Those who renounced God long ago
    • Those who fall into both of the above categories

    Can you see where I’m going with this, Mesdames et Messieurs? 

    Louis Catorze LOVES storms. Nobody knows why, but he does. Here in TW8 we had rain, on and off, from around 5pm on Hallowe’en, then at 7:30pm it turned into a violent lightning storm which continued until daybreak. Not only was Catorze out all night (no, he wasn’t shut out – he chose to go out) but the little sod woke me three times between midnight and 5am, soaking wet and screaming. Once I was fully awake, and he had rolled the water onto my sheets and pillow, he went back out to get wet all over again. 

    Hallowe’en, or Samhain, is said to be the Witches’ New Year. If this kind of behaviour is an indication of the next twelve months to come, then we’re in trouble. 

    Here is Catorze, pictured on the morning of the 31st. Was he … SUMMONING THE STORM GODS?

    What the Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump is going on here?

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

  • La vie a ses chefs-d’œuvre précieux

    Hallowe’en is upon us, and the big question is: did I manage to achieve anything even faintly resembling a portrait of Louis Catorze? 

    Well, yes. Furthermore, what’s unique about this year’s Official Hallowe’en Portrait is that, this time, it’s two sets: one is a standalone piece and the other, a pair. 

    The single photo was taken completely by chance, when Catorze jumped up onto the window to check for evil entities (erm, squirrels and parakeets) lurking outside. The window, the wisteria and the autumn trees frame him beautifully:

    Emergency operator: “The evil is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!”

    The next set consists of two almost-identical pictures, but one makes Catorze the focal point, and the other focuses on the cat skeleton in the foreground.  I am struggling to decide which is better, but I’m leaning towards the latter because Catorze looks more sinister when blurred. Sometimes the scariest thing of all is what you DON’T see.

    Now you see him …
    Now you (almost) don’t.

    I hope that your furry overlords will stay safe among the hordes of sugared-up children. In theory Catorze will be strictly limited to The Back but, on a night when we will be opening and closing the front door at least 8,972 times, I don’t fancy our chances of keeping him contained.

    Joyeuse Fête à tous. 

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