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.

  • Le chasseur prend sa retraite 

    What’s something you believe everyone should know?

    I want everyone to know that our cuddly, purring little overlords are actually murderous psychopaths. However, I think the world is starting to catch onto this. 

    I’ve been watching American Detective on Discovery Plus. One of the best things about it is the acerbic presenter who, when the killer is caught, smoking gun in hand, looks into the camera and says, without a flicker of emotion, “Well, my my my. Haven’t WE been a naughty boy?”

    According to this presenter, and I quote: “Animals only kill to survive. They don’t do it because they enjoy it. Only humans do that.” And now I’m wondering whether he has ever met a cat. 

    Although I understand the survival argument for wild cats, we feed our domestic ones fancy food more expensive than gold and crystal meth combined. So they know full well that they will survive whether they hunt or not, thanks to us pathetic suckers. And, since cats aren’t in the habit of doing things that they don’t want to do, there’s not a chance in hell that they don’t enjoy hunting. I’ve seen the look that Louis Catorze gets when his Urge To Kill switch has been activated: longer fangs, uncharacteristically razor-sharp reactions and the eyes of a startled crack addict. Trust me, he’s not hanging onto dear life. The little sod is loving every bit of it.

    Fortunately, Catorze has had all year to bring back vermin and he hasn’t bothered, so it’s highly unlikely that he will do so in the two months that remain. Being awoken in the night by squeaks and scrabbling, coming down the stairs and having to take an extra big step at the bottom in case the Catorzian trophy cabinet contained any surprise silverware, the Walks of Shame to the park bin to dispose of dead bodies, all those delights are now a thing of the past. 

    Catorze can now permanently retire his hunting boots and concentrate on what he does best, although someone may need to remind me of exactly what that is.

    [Checks notes … no, I’ve got nothing …]

    Yes, those bits on the carpet are fibres that he’s pulled up.

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

  • À pauvre coeur, petit souhait

    You have three magic genie wishes. What will you ask for?

    Quite frankly, I only have one wish right now: for Louis Catorze to produce a passable Official Hallowe’en Portrait. However, the chances of this happening are slim-to-zéro. 

    Cat Daddy’s friend Mike has gifted us with six monster pumpkins from his allotment, some of which were so heavy that we had to transport them from the car by rolling them onto a blanket and carrying the four corners. So we have props aplenty. The subject matter, however, isn’t cooperating. He just refuses. 

    I now have [checks calendar] four days to produce something. How frustrating to be in possession of the most amazing pumpkins in the world and AN ACTUAL BLACK VAMPIRE CAT, yet I’m still stuck without an Official Hallowe’en Portrait. Let’s hope the universe is able to deliver me some magic soon …

    My best effort so far. Ahem.

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

  • Il m’aime, il ne m’aime pas

    Remember when Louis Catorze ditched his papa and decided that he liked me? Well, now he doesn’t. 

    Our initial theory was that Cat Daddy spent much of the summer in shorts. Catorze is not a fan of bare skin against his person/feline so, now that the weather is cooling and Cat Daddy is back in jeans again, his lap is no longer locus non grata. 

    However, just to confuse us and throw our theory out of whack, the little sod has just snuggled up on his papa’s lap during an anomalous shorts day. So now we don’t know what to think. All we know for sure is that Boys’ Club is back on.

    Here he is, in his happy place (and looking very pleased with himself):

    The tail is like an extension of the middle finger.

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

  • On est plus à l’abri d’un véritable ennemi que d’un faux ami

    Whilst the Diwali festivities continued throughout Tuesday night, Louis Catorze decided to do some partying of his own. It wasn’t that long ago that we were saying “We hardly ever see other cats in the garden” so, naturellement, he felt compelled to prove us wrong by entertaining this gentleman caller: 

    Yes, he has the fat face of an unneutered male. What can I say? Catorze has a type.

    Cat Daddy spotted them on the shed roof, just sitting there and gazing over Catorzian territory. I crept out like a silent ninja, phone in hand, and managed to capture a few photos. Then, when I replied to Cat Daddy who was telling me to hurry up and close the door, I startled the visitor, who took off. 

    His movement seemed to break the spell and, suddenly, they were no longer buddies; they were mortal enemies, and Catorze showed him this in no uncertain terms, tearing after him. Then the guttural howling started.

    Oh. Mon. Dieu.

    Cat Daddy: “We’d better check in case one of them is hurt.”

    I did. They weren’t.

    So a pleasant event spent happily watching the sunset and the Diwali fireworks together, ended in abject embarrassment: a screaming match atop That Neighbour’s shed roof. Luckily, by then, it was almost fully dark, so I was able to hide indoors and pretend that they were nothing to do with me. 

    I know that inconvenient bullshittery is standard Catorzian comportement, especially in the run-up to Hallowe’en. But we could do without this. 

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

  • Quand on est jeune, c’est pour toujours

    I have just upgraded Le Blog to the Premium version of WordPress, after running out of space on the previous one. I have no idea what kind of features are available on this plan, but no doubt I will find out soon. 

    When upgrading, I was asked to choose between a two-year and a three-year plan. Cat Daddy, of course, doesn’t think Louis Catorze will last much longer than a couple of weeks (although he’s been saying that for the past six years) so he didn’t think it worth my while upgrading at all. But I opted for the three-year plan, which would take Catorze up to eighteen and a half years old. 

    Yes, I know that this is quite a reach. But the little sod keeps surprising us, time and time again, with his resilience. He will probably outlast the whole darned lot of us. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he lived forever. 

    My immortal.

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

  • On ne grossit pas; on augmente sa surface de caresse

    What have you been working on?

    Repairing and rebuilding. Yes, Louis Catorze. YES, REALLY.

    Cat Daddy took Louis Catorze to the vet last week, whilst I was at work. It’s been a good couple of months since his last steroid shot, so the little sod has done quite well to get this far before needing it. 

    Amazingly, Catorze has chubbed up nicely and is now above the 3kg mark. He may well be a few scraps of fur held together with thyroid meds and steroids, but I’d rather this than not have him held together at all. And a few drugs never did anyone any harm; just look at the Rolling Stones. Ahem.

    (I asked Cat Daddy if he’d done the Chubbing Up Dance in the consultation room. He said no.)

    On the way back from the appointment, Cat Daddy serenaded Catorze with the following self-penned masterpiece. Please feel free to sing along (to the tune of Sloop John B): 

    “Louis went to the vet
    He got quite upset 
    He went to the vet but now he’s on his way home
    He’s on his way home 
    He’s on his way home 
    Louis Catorze, he’s on his way home.”

    This has been my earworm ever since finding out about it, and now it will be yours. You’re welcome. 

    There were pet sounds aplenty in the car on the way there.

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

  • Les pires dictateurs dans le monde

    When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?

    Honestly? Every single domestic cat. Yes, all of them, in equal measure.

    Nothing defines success quite like conning your way into a household and then spending a lifetime being lavished with the best food, the best medical care and everything else imaginable. You don’t even have to give the slightest thing in return, nor show any gratitude. In fact, you can behave like an utterly thankless arse and still reap the goodies.

    Cats know exactly what they’re doing. So do we … yet we’re pathetic enough to let them get away with it.

    The sun truly does revolve around him.

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

  • Un grain de folie

    At the start of this week, I visited Family Next Door to give them their “Thank you for chat-sitting” gifts. They reported that Louis Catorze had been so screamy during our weekend away that they almost called us to ask if it were normal.

    (Of course it’s not. Nothing about life with him is normal. But I couldn’t be bothered to explain it all, so I just said yes.)

    In other news, Catorze has just come in covered in some sort of plant matter. As well as what you can see here, there’s a HUGE patch on the side of his body (about a tablespoon of seeds, if I were to measure them out):

    Eurgh.

    Naturellement the little sod isn’t happy with me trying to pick them off, and he writhes and whines when I try to do so. 

    What has he been DOING? Do I have to remind him, yet again, that he’s an old cat (which means he should be slowing the heck down)? How is he finding the time and the inclination to gad about in plant matter when the rest of the world – well, one half of it, anyway – is seeking cosy warmth? 

    Only Catorze knows the answers. And he ain’t telling. 

    Screaming away … with seeds on his head.

    *EDIT: after I eventually picked off the seeds, one by one, I found him like this the very next day:

    For goodness’ sake.

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

  • La déesse de la chasse 

    Cat Daddy and I went to visit my sister at the weekend, in an effort to escape feline bullshittery. 

    We failed in our mission. 

    Mesdames et Messieurs, it may well be deep autumn here in the UK, but nobody appears to have told Roux this. The little sod is still merrily hunting, as she did throughout the summer, and the arrival of household guests meant a perfect opportunity to show off her hunting prowess. 

    Roux’s brother Otis is innocent, for once.

    Roux’s favourite spot is underneath the acer bower in the garden, where she remains completely concealed when the tree is in full leaf. My sister and I were chatting in the kitchen when, suddenly, Roux sprang out from her hiding place, feathers flying and a huge pigeon in her mouth. 

    Oh. Mon. Dieu. 

    Luckily Roux wasn’t able to see the task through to the end; the pigeon was able to flap free and fly away. However, the evidence of the attempted murder was there for all to see, in the form of feathers all over the lawn and stuck to the offender’s whiskers.

    Holy moly.
    HOLY MOLY.

    Meanwhile, back in TW8, Catorze appears to have behaved throughout our absence. Once again, I don’t understand it but I’ll take it. 

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

  • Les esprits maléfiques (Partie 2)

    What would you would attempt, were you not guaranteed to fail?

    (I’ve changed the wording slightly to make it a better fit for today’s catastrophe.)

    I’d make cats stop being massive shites. But, since it’s impossible, I shan’t even bother to try.

    The Bus of Misrule usually stops off here in October, but it seems to have passed us by and, instead, made a quick return trip to the south coast. 

    My sister’s family have barely recovered from Otis’s bullshittery, and now it’s Roux’s turn.

    Bastard cat.

    The evil deed took place at the witching hour of 3am. Roux’s human mamma and big sister were having a sleepover in said bedroom, when they were awoken to the sound of scratching. The little sod had peed on the newly-laid carpet – so new, in fact, that the humans had not yet paid the invoice for it. 

    The family WhatsApp group is now pinging away merrily with links to orange oil, enzyme-based carpet cleaner and various other substances known for repelling pissy cats. Since Louis Catorze has only ever toileted inappropriately twice, each time when a human* had inadvertently blocked his exit route, for once in my life I can use “Sorry I can’t be of any help here” as a flex.

    *Not me.

    Cats, come on, please give us a break. (Catorze, as you were.)

    Even he looks surprised that he’s behaving.

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

  • Qui promet la lune

    It was a full moon yesterday. Louis Catorze has been moon-sensitive all his life, so much so that we don’t even need to check full moon dates because we can usually tell by his behaviour: he’s wide-eyed, twitchy-eared and highly alert in the couple of days before and after. 

    For the last few nights just before the full moon, Catorze had been lying on my lap but only pretending to sleep. He was treating every little sound outside with suspicion, flicking his ears and eyeing invisible, otherworldly beings drifting outside the window (even though he was probably the one who summoned them in the first place).  

    So when I opened the main bedroom window one night, to let out the stale air, I fully expected to come back into the room and see his arse clambering out. It was rather more of a surprise, however, to come back and see his arse clambering IN. 

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs, the little sod had crept out of an upper floor window, whilst I had my back turned, and stayed out there for a good fifteen minutes.

    Nobody quite knows what he did out there, but no doubt the moonbeams would have charged him up for whatever bullshittery he had in mind. And, with Hallowe’en not too far away, I think there’s more to come. 

    Please, someone, send help to TW8 urgently.

    I see a bad moon rising.

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

  • Les esprits maléfiques 

    What’s your favourite hobby or pastime?

    Right now? Pissing off all the humans.

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: there is more feline bullshittery afoot although, again, it’s not my cat who’s causing it. What is HAPPENING? 

    This time it’s Louis Catorze’s cat-cousin and fellow Chat Noir, Rodan, who has been jumping onto the kitchen worktop to hoover up any dregs of food left over from dinner. He knows he’s not allowed to do this. However, he doesn’t give a shit. 

    Worse yet, the little sod doesn’t even have the grace to run away guiltily when caught, as most normal cats do. In fact, he settles on the worktop in loaf pose, limbs folded and defiant, as if to raise a massive middle finger to the humans and their pathetic rules. 

    Here he is, getting told off by his Cat Daddy: 

    Bastard cat.

    It’s only going to get worse in the run-up to Hallowe’en, isn’t it? At least the one silver lining is that it’s not my problem. 

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

  • Un nouveau mode de vie (Partie 13) 

    What’s a topic or issue about which you’ve changed your mind?

    When these arrived in the post, Cat Daddy had questions. MANY questions.

    It’s not what it looks like.

    Mesdames et Messieurs, these are finger cots, and you put them over your fingers to protect cuts from infection. I didn’t even know these existed until one of my friends – YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE – introduced me to them. 

    Since Louis Catorze has such an aversion to being thyroid-medicated, and since these finger cots look much easier to hide in one’s hand than a whole, scrunched-up glove, I bought a huge packet of them. And they work. I can also wear one on my thumb, if I wish to do so, to avoid being tainted through any sudden ear-flicking. (Catorze can be alarmingly adept at this; one unexpected flick and I end up medicating my thumb instead of his ear.) 

    These magical things have transformed my life, and medicating Catorze is now only moderately horrendous rather than absolute hell on earth. I’ll take the improvement, however minuscule.

    That ear is just itching to be medicated.

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

  • Un portail vers les morts

    What skill would you like to learn?

    It’s October, and Pets at Home have just launched a ouija board for cats. So necromancy could be quite fun, non?

    Wow.

    However, since we share a house with Louis Catorze, who already communes with evil spirits on a regular basis, we’re probably better off giving it a miss. So that frees up a ouija board for one of you. 

    You’re welcome. 

    Yeah, what we really need in this house are more demons.

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