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.

  • Ça commence à beaucoup ressembler au solstice d’hiver

    2020 really is the year that keeps on giving, right to the bitter end: our tree was supposed to have been delivered last week but, the day before the scheduled delivery, the supplier called to let us know that their shipment of trees wasn’t up to standard and therefore they were very sorry but they wouldn’t be delivering.

    Now, compared to what we’ve already experienced of this cirque de merde of a year, no tree is hardly the end of the world – at least, not for us. But, for the poor tree man, this is just the worst thing ever; as well as his business being royally shafted, he was having to call every customer to let them know that Christmas was ruined, and I can imagine one or two of them being quite bratty and princessy about it.

    He sounded so upset and frustrated, and we felt so bad for him, that we told him not to worry about refunding us. And, instead of our usual outdoor tree, we have decorated our bare virginia creeper skeleton with baubles and lights. If you followed Le Blog last year you will know that one of our household traditions is for Louis Catorze to have his own indoor tree, so we have brought in our potted bay tree from The Front for him, just in case you were concerned about him being treeless this year.

    Cat Daddy: “Literally nobody was concerned about that.”

    So we have our outdoor winter wonderland at The Back, Catorze’s bay tree in the living room, and a stunning wreath made for us by Puppy Mamma at The Front. And, whilst we were putting it all up, somehow the Yuletide spirit seemed to give Sa Maj a much-needed burst of energy after a day or two of slumpy inactivity (most likely powering up for his next bit of mischief) and, throughout the whole process, he pitter-pattered around us, bug-eyed and screaming.

    We are so looking forward to the winter solstice and to the lighter days which will, we hope, bring a happier year.

    Catorze’s special tree, with bespoke decorations.
    Puppy Mamma’s super-stylish handmade wreath. She managed to keep the dogs’ chops away from it this time.

  • J’adore la laine

    I am in a race against time to knit a set of scarves by 25th December. A late start (my own fault, I know) and a series of wool catastrophes have resulted in me running way, way behind schedule. Obviously this means I could do without any individuals larking about with my knitting. That goes without saying, non?

    Imagine my dismay, then, when I came downstairs yesterday morning to this:

    Why?
    Also: how?

    My first thought was that Cat Daddy must have had too much wine the night before and somehow ended up tangled in the wool. Cat Daddy was shocked and a little insulted when I asked him this but I still maintain that it was not an unfair assumption, especially as there was an empty wine bottle and glass on the worktop (see first photo).

    This only leaves Louis Catorze, and he’s supposed to be ill. He’s also not supposed to be on the worktop, and I’m profoundly disappointed that my mastermind idea for keeping him off – placing him there to give him his medication – seems to have run its course after many, many years of success.

    Anyway, I have now lost precious knitting time by having to instead spend it untangling the mess, and the chances of our friends receiving the scarves by Christmas are diminishing faster than our hopes of a Brexit deal. The culprit is relaxing on his daddy’s lap, without a care in the world:

    Catorze is all out of shits to give.

  • L’émoticône du chat noir

    Most people would not regard an iOS update as the most exciting thing on this earth. And who can blame them?

    However, with the recent iOS 14.2 there are around a hundred new emojis, including … fanfare … a black cat!

    Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs, it’s been a long time coming. I’d have thought it would be top of the list of Hallowe’en emojis – it has always struck me as odd that they had zombies and vampires OF DIFFERENT GENDERS, yet no black cat – but it’s here now, and that’s all that matters.

    And, best of all, it’s in a classic, up-tailed Catorzian pose, so it really does look as if it were made with him in mind.

    Spot the difference:

    Louis Catorze is the one on the left.

  • La gloire du chasseur

    Because Louis Catorze has a patellar luxation in both back legs, exerting himself too much is bad for him. We know this. You know this. However, he doesn’t appear to know this. And, if he does know, he doesn’t care.

    First of all, last week, I noticed that he was prowling suspiciously around the kitchen, and this culminated in him diving behind the kitchen bin and emerging with a mouse in his mouth. (And, before you say anything, he was probably the one who brought in the mouse in the first place, so he isn’t a hero by any means.)

    Then Blue the Smoke Bengal popped by to say hello the other day. Catorze is friendly to every other cat who comes through our garden but he won’t tolerate Blue, so he shot after him down the garden path, all puff-tailed and offended. He was then up and over the fence and the shed rooftops, chasing poor Blue all the way home. Not content with seeing him off, Catorze then settled on top of Oscar the dog’s shed roof and stared creepily down into Blue’s garden, to intimidate him into staying put.

    Cat Daddy went to the shops and, when he came back, Catorze was still in exactly the same spot. And, embarrassingly, Cat Daddy had bumped into Blue’s mamma on his way home and had told her that the two cats were “sort of playing”.

    We had no idea what to do. So we, erm, went to the attic for a better look, and to try to take some photos.

    By the time we got there, however, things had intensified: Catorze had chased Blue all the way into the Zone Libre and across the school playing field, right up to the houses neighbouring Twiggy the greyhound’s place. After being cornered for a short while underneath one of the outdoor tables, Blue raced back home, pursued by Catorze, except this time Catorze was WALKING. No doubt he was channelling Michael Myers from Halloween, who never fails to catch up with his victims even though they’re always running and he’s always walking.

    We are flabbergasted, not only because Catorze is supposed to be ill/injured but also because Blue is considerably larger and could finish him in an instant, if he were so inclined. And we realise that we may have been naive to assume that Catorze would simply rest his ravaged body, instead of – as ever – doing exactly the opposite of what we want.

    Here he is, photographed just before the chase moved to the Zone Libre. Is this the face of a sick animal?

    Not a merde was giv’n on this fine day.

  • Elle fait une liste, elle la vérifie deux fois

    Lockdown came to an end earlier this week. Cat Daddy, Louis Catorze and I are now in Tier 2*, which is the worst of the lot – yes, even worse than 3 – because it’s not quite normal life, yet not enough is in place to make it worth the bother for our hospitality industry.

    *For non-Brits who aren’t familiar with the system, Tier 1 = alcohol, Tier 2 = alcohol but only with a pasty and a side salad, Tier 3 = no alcohol, no pasty, no side salad.

    We have been granted five days over the festive season in which we can do what we like (not exactly what’s been instructed, but it’s what will happen) and, as we have seen before, any plan which relies on the common sense of the British public is doomed to fail. So Cat Daddy and I have told our families and friends that we won’t be seeing them. We’ve got this far and we just don’t see the point in chucking it all in now.

    I am the one who takes charge of buying the gifts every December. Cat Daddy does so many of the boring chores and errands on a daily basis that it’s only fair I pull my weight just once a year. And, yes, I do realise that the fact that we’re even able to buy gifts makes us very lucky indeed. The other day, Cat Daddy asked me how I was getting along.

    Me: “Oh, I’m almost done. I just need to get the animals’ presents.”

    Him: “Sorry?”

    Me: “Presents for Louis’s friends.”

    [Silence, tumbleweed, crickets.]

    Whilst it’s something of a stretch to suggest that he has any friends, it’s lovely that we are among like-minded animal lovers who understand animal gifts. That said, each pet has very different requirements so it’s not as simple as one would imagine:

    1. Cat-Cousin Zelva: not keen on wet food.

    2. Cat-Cousin King Ghidorah: likes Sheba (poultry variants) at the moment, but will have changed his mind by the time this post goes live.

    3. Cocoa the babysit cat and his sister Chanel: are used to exotic delicacies such as, erm, squirrel and parakeet, and so nothing we could give them would ever feel like a real treat.

    4. Blue the Smoke Bengal: is under strict orders to lose some poundage, so food-based gifts are out.

    5. Nala the dog and Gizzy the [insert name of species]: sensitive tummies.

    In short, festive shopping for pets is COMPLICATED.

    Luckily, Louis Catorze is the simplest of the bunch: we don’t buy him anything. Now, before you feel sorry for him, hear me out. He doesn’t know it’s the festive season and, if he did, he wouldn’t give a hoot.

    *EDIT: HOOT VERY MUCH GIVEN. After I drafted this post, Cat Daddy went to investigate a commotion in the dining room and discovered that Catorze had broken into the animals’ gift storage and was chasing Blue the Smoke Bengal’s catnip fish around the room. I don’t imagine Blue will want it now that it’s covered in Roi spit so, since the poor little sod hasn’t been well, we’ve decided to buy something else for Blue and let Catorze keep the fish:

    Thou shalt have a fishy.

  • Avaler la pilule sans la mâcher

    Two days ago, I posted about Louis Catorze happily eating his medication in Pill Pockets. Naturellement, as soon as that post went live – LITERALLY THAT SAME MORNING – he decided he wasn’t going to do it anymore.

    Lately he has had some ravenously hungry moments, clearing serving after serving of food and then circling his empty bowl like a hungry shark with its eyes locked on an injured seal. So we were pretty confident that he would continue take his pills with no problems. But: nope.

    Me, after the first pill failure: “This isn’t good. His Gabapentin pills need to be taken 12 hours apart, and we’ve stuffed that up now.”

    Cat Daddy, without looking up from his laptop: “You’re going to have to Greco* him.”

    Me: “But it’s two pills [the Gabapentin and the Prednisolone]. How do I Greco two pills? It’s bad enough Grecoing one.”

    Cat Daddy, still not looking up from his laptop: “Yeah, it’s going to be a tough one for you.”

    Well, thanks for that helpful input.

    *If you are new to Le Blog, this link fully explains what “Greco” means: https://louiscatorze.com/2017/01/07/la-pilule-est-dure-a-avaler/

    Worse yet, Le Roi had sloped off to have a nap under our bed. So not only would l have to go through the worst experience known to mankind, TWICE, but I would have to wriggle under the bed on my belly to drag Catorze’s arse out first.

    Anyway, the deed was done in one shot. I think the poor little sod was so taken aback at the rude awakening that all he could manage in response was a little quack, like a duck. I flung both pills into his mouth at once, did the throat rubby thing and – merci à Dieu et à tous ses anges – it worked.

    And, as soon as it was over, he decided that he WAS hungry after all and headed for his bowl. Luckily, because I know what a bastard he is, I had taken out the first set of pills just minutes beforehand – and what a good thing, too, because a double-pilled Roi on a full moon would just be too much.

    Here he is, recovering from the trauma on his favourite lap:

    The drugs don’t work. They just make him worse.

  • Mourir debout ou vivre au genoux?

    Cat Daddy and I could not be more relieved that Louis Catorze’s recent problems were caused by his patellar luxation and not by some other heinous thing. That said, having now researched his condition, we are not quite sure what we will be able to do about it on a day-to-day basis.

    For the moment, the recommended treatment from our vet is just pain relief. And – merci au bon Dieu – because he is eating his Pill Pockets quite happily, this has not been a problem so far. However, online advice also recommends “limiting exercise and access to running and jumping”.

    I don’t tend to take online advice and, if I did, I would only have three words for this particular snippet: Not. Gonna. Happen.

    Now, if Catorze were a normal cat, he would be taking it easy at his age and trying not to do too much. But he’s not. Quite the opposite. Everything he does is everything that’s inadvisable for his condition and, short of locking him up, I don’t know how we can stop him.

    Apparently surgery could be an option, although the advice is “the sooner the better”. Now, if they’re referring to the severity of the patellar luxation, Catorze would probably be a good candidate as he is only at the lowest level. However, if they mean age, at ten years old I fear it might be too late. Catorze is an old boy with the constitution of a swatted gnat, so I can’t see him recovering well from surgery.

    Plus: six weeks of cage rest? Catorze, sitting quietly in a cage? Nope. We would need ALL THE SEDATIVES. And maybe we would even give some to him.

    Anyway, he still looks frightful with bald patches and crusty eyes. But his knee has behaved itself well since last weekend and has only caved in once (for about four seconds). And Cat Daddy had to eat his lunch standing up the other day because Catorze was being such a pest – clambering all over him, purring, screaming – so I guess this means the little sod is doing ok.

    On his favourite lap.

  • Manger comme un Roi

    Louis Catorze is now on two sets of pills – Prednisolone and Gabapentin – twice a day. And the little sod is happily eating them in Pill Pockets. He doesn’t seem to be acting any differently although, with this combination being the equivalent of smoking weed and taking amphetamines together, most likely they cancel one another out.

    His food changeover is going well. (Well, it’s about time something did, n’est-ce pas?) He loved Lily’s Kitchen Fabulous Fish when we switched him to there from Acana Pacifica, but he loves the Cool Cat Club food even more.

    To prevent him from picking it away from the rest of his food, I started to bury the precious nuggets of Cool Cat Club food under a pile of Marvellously Mature. But the little sod was one step ahead of me, and he dug it out like a tiny, toothy truffling pig. So I mixed the foods together in the dispenser, rather like a trail mix type thing, in the hope that this would help the two flavours to combine and that Catorze would be too stupid to know which was which.

    It worked. He ate both. Then he sat at our feet for the next half hour, alternating between creepy, statue-still, bug-eyed staring and ear-bleedingly excruciating screaming.

    Me: “What’s WRONG with him?”

    Cat Daddy: “He does this to me all the time when you’re at work.”

    Me: “Yes, but what does he want? It surely can’t be more food? He doesn’t like food. He’s never liked food.”

    When I got up to move away from him because he was giving me the creeps, he ran to his empty plate. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.

    In the six years that he has lived with us (Cat Daddy: “Dear God, is that all it it’s been?”) he has been on three different brands of food, each one ditched for various reasons. The Cool Cat Club is the fourth and it certainly seems to be ticking all the boxes so far, so let’s hope it’s the one to stay.

    Nothing marvellous or mature about this.

  • De bonnes nouvelles

    Thank you for sending your good wishes to Louis Catorze.

    The little sod has had a weird leg-kicky tick – the same leg that stopped working on Sunday – for some time now. We’ve never done anything about it because it’s never bothered him. And, a few weeks ago, I happened to catch it on video just by chance.

    I sent the video to the vet in advance of our appointment on Monday morning, to see whether it might be linked to Sunday’s events. However, I really, really should have checked the video before sending it, and I didn’t.

    20 seconds into the 30-second video, my voice can be heard (in response to Catorze’s screaming) saying, “What’s the matter with you? Meow twice if it’s something urgent, meow once if you’re just being a massive [rude name].”

    Oh. Mon. Dieu.

    Thank goodness the Apple Gods were on my side: the video was too long to send, and so it never left my Outbox. It was during editing that I realised my error and so was able to send a PG-rated version. PHEW.

    Cat Daddy: “Well, if you use that sort of language to talk about him, you’re going to get caught out.” (Says he who isn’t exactly known for his gentlemanly vocabulary, most of it much worse than the word I’d used in the video.)

    However, right after I’d planned and scheduled Monday’s blog post (but before our appointment), Catorze’s leg went again, twice. On one of those occasions I was able to film it and, although it was 46 seconds of pure torture watching our poor boy howling in anguish, at least I had something of significance to show the vet.

    It seems that his problem is most likely due to his patellar luxation aka dodgy knees (originally diagnosed a few years ago, when his French chat-sitteur saw that he was limping: https://louiscatorze.com/2017/08/20/a-genoux/).

    Apparently this was evident in the video because Catorze was able to hold up his leg rather than dragging it behind him. So it’s back to the Gabapentin for a few days, and he has to remain on the higher dose of steroids until he starts looking better. What a huge relief to know that it’s joint-related and not some horrendous neurological disorder requiring trips to TW3 on the animal bus and endless tests.

    And a lady who was in the Dog Area of the waiting room with her Border Terrier puppy complimented Catorze on his swish transportation pod, which was very nice indeed.

    Anyway, the moral of this story is: always film pets acting out of character, however difficult it may be to remember in the heat of the moment. As well as avoiding the “Well, he looks fine to me” scenario, making you look like a complete idiot when your pet won’t perform at the surgery, video evidence helps the vet and could save a lot of time, money and stress.

    The picture below was taken an hour or so before the appointment, when Catorze heard a squirrel outside. And, after coming home from the appointment, he was straight into the Zone Libre to annoy the foxes, then over a 2-metre fence to bid a jaunty bonjour to That Neighbour. So I can see his recovery being, erm, a greater challenge than expected (or wanted).

    Dodgy knee? Quel dodgy knee?

  • Problème sur problème

    In the early hours of Sunday morning, Louis Catorze had some sort of “episode”. I don’t know exactly what to call it, but it has never happened before and I hope someone will tell us that it happens to all cats.

    At 5am, Catorze did his usual walk up the bed to scream in my face. He then whined and collapsed onto my stomach, and I had to grab his hindquarters to stop him from sliding off the bed.

    When I turned on the light, the little sod was holding his right leg strangely and appeared to have lost use of it. I am cross with myself for not taking the advice that I always give to others when their pets have funny turns – which is to film them in order to have evidence to show the vet – but I just didn’t think of it.

    After around 15-20 minutes of the little sod whining, hissing and struggling to right his body, and me stroking him and feeling utterly useless, he was fine again. And I will now have to explain everything verbally to the vet which is never as good as them seeing it. I would not want him to lose control of his body in some inopportune situation e.g. whilst sneaking into a fox hole to steal decomposing animal parts, or whilst sitting atop Twiggy the greyhound’s fence.

    His face is not looking great, either. His eyes are very puffy and sore, and he has cut the inside of his left ear (most likely through over-scratching). The fact that he left the boiler repair man alone on Saturday, instead of annoying the hell out of him, is a huge indicator that all is not well. And, would you believe, just as I was about to phone the emergency vet to tell them about the leg thing, Catorze strolled in from The Back with a swollen, only-partially-open eye. It hadn’t looked that way an hour earlier.

    The emergency vet lady told us that, since Catorze’s legs were now fine and he was behaving normally, we didn’t need to rush him in immediately. However, we will take him into our local branch tomorrow (Monday) and, by the time you read this, we will hopefully have been to the appointment.

    At least we will get good value out of the visit, with two problems to deal with at once. Although, knowing Catorze, it’s highly likely that he will create a third between now and then.

    Photo taken just after Problème 1, and an hour or two before Problème 2. Please don’t let there be a Problème 3.

  • L’odeur du diable

    The boiler repair man came on Friday. Cat Daddy had to leave the house to collect me from work right after he arrived, and when we came home we were a little concerned to see him sitting outside in his van. Luckily he had just popped out to grab his laptop and hadn’t been forced out by a certain someone’s incessant screaming. In fact, Louis Catorze slept through most of his visit, I suspect because the poor little sod is not feeling well. He is now on the higher dose of two pills per day, but clearly it will take a couple of days to kick in.

    In other news, a few days ago I managed to make Catorze gag, which is some achievement (not to mention quite the role reversal).

    Now, I can explain:

    My necklace had become stuck in my hair. Even after hacking away with scissors and finally freeing the darned thing, there were strands of hair wound so tightly around the chain that no amount of picking would remove them. So I had the genius idea of, erm, holding the chain over a flame and burning the hairs off.

    Burning hair, as we know, isn’t the most pleasant smell. But Cat Daddy was outside and therefore wouldn’t have noticed, plus the stench would be relatively short-lived as there wasn’t THAT much hair stuck, so I did it.

    Sadly I forgot about poor little Catorze asleep on the sofa in the same room. As the smell wafted in his direction, the little sod woke up, stretched … and gagged. It is probably the single most hilarious sound I have ever heard.

    Catorze is happy to wrap his chops around birds, mice, dried rats that foxes have killed and saved for later, and fresh rats that he killed and carried up to our bedroom. Yet burning hair, it seems, is just beyond the pale.

    Cat Daddy fell about laughing when I told him, and he is desperate for me to burn more hair just to get the gag on video. I won’t, because it seems a bit mean. However, there’s no telling what he’ll do when I’m at work, and I’m not sure I can trust him …

    (Picture actually features a yawn, not the gag, but it did look remarkably like this.)

    An artist’s impression of the gag.

  • Cool pour les chats

    Louis Catorze’s Cool Cat Club sample pack has arrived, and they very kindly upgraded his delivery to Next Day at no extra cost so that he could have it quickly.

    The package came accompanied by this lovely note from Paul:

    Très cool.

    We want to take things slowly with the new food because Catorze is a sensitive little thing and, back in the day, he used to be quite prone to vomiting (although it was quite funny that time he did it all over Cat Daddy’s side of the bed WHILST WE SLEPT, leaving my side completely untouched). Ideally we would change his food in the summer, when his health problems seem to mysteriously disappear, but we don’t have enough of his old food to last that long, nor do we have any chance of getting more as it’s being discontinued. We’re going to have to do it sometime, and it might as well be now.

    For the moment, it’s just a light sprinkling of the Cool Cat Club food on top of a normal serving of Lily’s Kitchen Marvellously Mature, with the proportions progressively shifting over the next month or so.

    And, happily, so far so good. In fact, so far TOO good: the little sod skilfully plucked the Cool Cat Club pieces from his plate and ate those first, with the Marvellously Mature eaten much later. I would struggle to be this dexterous in the time he had, even with a magnifying glass and a pair tweezers, so God knows how he did it with his gallumping idiot jaws.

    Cat Daddy, without looking up from his laptop: “Fascinating. Are you going to blog about that?” (He thought I was joking when I said yes.)

    If you fancy trying out the Cool Cat Club yourself, and you use Sa Maj’s referral link to subscribe, you will earn ten food pouches for less fortunate kitties: https://thecoolcatclub.com/?r=mvMcQ6JPh50D

  • Toujours drogué, plein d’énergie

    After doing well for a couple of weeks, Louis Catorze isn’t looking so good right now.

    We started tapering down his steroids to one a day on 1st November and to alternate days from 8th November. He was fine for that first week but, during the second, his itchiness and bald patches crept back. So he is now back on one pill a day.

    We had hoped for him to be drug-free by now, so it’s a little disappointing. And the little sod has been somewhat subdued. However, being unwell hasn’t stopped him from being a massive idiot.

    One night he did a real number on Cat Daddy by disappearing at The Front on his watch, although this serves Cat Daddy right for letting him out when he was too drunk to monitor the situation properly.

    I went downstairs at 3am to find out why Cat Daddy hadn’t come to bed and why all the lights were on, and I discovered him on the sofa, having dozed off with the window open and then woken up with no idea of whether Catorze was in or out. So he had been sitting there, shivering, for about two hours, waiting for him to come in.

    Incidentally, the little sod WAS in, and had been under our bed the whole time.

    And, last week, Cat Daddy made the grim discovery of TWO bird corpses in the garden, with much of the flesh eaten away. This kind of thing is not Catorze’s MO but he cannot be fully eliminated from our enquiries; even if he didn’t do the eating, stealing someone else’s tasty morsel, just for fun, is right up his street. We suspect that that’s what he did with the curly-haired rat four years ago (https://louiscatorze.com/2016/08/14/a-bon-chat-bon-rat/) and he would absolutely be stupid/rude enough to creep into the same fox hole and steal their dinner a second time.

    Worse yet, when Cat Daddy went to dispose of the evidence in the park bin, he came across That Neighbour. Not only is That Neighbour a prolific local activist who would have regarded this as fly-tipping but we have already bumped into him many times when disposing of Catorze’s kills, and each time we have had to stage elaborate theatrics to hide our actions. So, after exchanging pleasantries for longer than is appropriate when one party is clutching a plastic bag containing decomposing animal parts, Cat Daddy had to divert his route and pretend he was walking to the supermarket, and consequently a one-minute job ended up taking him about half an hour.

    Here is Catorze, being his usual self and giving not a single hoot about the trouble he’s causing:

    Absolute muppet.

  • Chat échaudé craint l’eau chaude

    Our boiler has packed up. We’re not sure what’s gone wrong but our shower and taps run hot for two minutes, then cold for two minutes, then hot for two minutes, and so on. Not the end of the world compared to many people’s struggles right now but not especially helpful, either.

    When Cat Daddy called the repair man, he agreed to come on two conditions:

    1. Social distancing is to be maintained at all times throughout his visit (fine)

    2. No pets (erm ….)

    This is what Le Roi thinks of point 2.

    Cat Daddy: “Oh dear. I’m afraid we have a cat.”

    Repair man: “That’s ok. Most cats run away from me, so that won’t be a problem.”

    Cat Daddy: “…”

    Cat Daddy: “…”

    Cat Daddy: “Yes, I’m sure ours will do the same.”

    Me, to Cat Daddy, later that day: “Why did you say that? You know it’s a lie.”

    Cat Daddy: “I didn’t have a choice. If I’d told the truth, the repair man would have refused to come.”

    This is true. Merde.

    If you have followed Le Blog for any length of time, you will be fully aware that Catorze’s record for leaving visiting tradespeople in peace is pretty atrocious. Take a look at the links at the bottom of the page if you don’t believe me.

    Having lied to the repair man to trick him into coming into our house during a pandemic, we now have to figure out what the heck to do with Catorze whilst the work is being done. Shutting him in a room would be awful because of the screaming. But leaving him free to go on the rampage just doesn’t bear thinking about. Cat Daddy is sorely tempted to kick him out at The Front and hope he doesn’t go harassing neighbours or passers-by, or pulling off squirrels’ tails. Not ideal, by any means, but what else do we do?

    Let’s hope that thoughts, prayers and copious amounts of neat vodka will get us through.

    https://louiscatorze.com/2016/04/15/une-seule-rose-peut-etre-mon-jardin/

    https://louiscatorze.com/2018/03/23/une-vision-de-la-beaute/

    https://louiscatorze.com/2018/04/05/une-chance-pour-tous/

    https://louiscatorze.com/2019/08/16/un-peu-de-honte-est-bientot-passee/