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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.

  • 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

  • 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