De nouveaux horizons

Cat Daddy and I are a little sad because we have had to give up Kim*, our lovely, reliable car who never gave us any trouble. (Although we do, of course, realise that we lead a very fortunate life if that’s our greatest upset.)

*Not named after Kim Kardashian, I might add, but after, erm, Kim Jong-Un. It was funny at the time.

Our new car is the same make and similar in colour and shape to Kim, so there should be none of that initial new car confusion when attempting to locate it in car parks. But will Louis Catorze recognise it? For all his lack of brain cells, the little sod had grown to know the sound of Kim and was always at the door to greet us when we got home.

Cat Daddy is convinced that cats instinctively pick up on the HUMAN presence at the door, not the car outside, and appears to have completely forgotten about this incident:

https://louiscatorze.com/2016/11/04/le-sixieme-sens/

But I think it’s both. And I now wonder how long it will be before Catorze learns to associate a new car sound with us? I will keep you informed on how promptly he shows up at the door when we get home after being out.

The day we dropped off Kim and collected her successor, I said to Cat Daddy, “This must be what it’s like when you foster a cat and then it finds a new home, don’t you think?”

Cat Daddy, without looking up from his laptop: “No. I don’t think it’s remotely like that.”

Me: “Do you think Scott [the car dealership sales guy] would think it weird if we asked him to make sure Kim went to a good home? And maybe the new owner could send us photos?”

[Silence, tumbleweed, crickets]

Nous sommes sans cesse mis à l’épreuve

We are just a couple of days into Cat Daddy’s retirement, and already I’ve had it with the males in this household.

It’s bad enough that Boys’ Club seems to have taken a darker turn and gone underground – and by this I mean Catorze purring and cuddling with Cat Daddy when I am not around, then disappearing if I try to join in the fun and eventually reappearing and picking up from where he left off if I go away again. But now they are both colluding to ruin my film-watching time, and this is utterly unforgivable.

I have known for some time never to watch a film with Cat Daddy if he’s seen it before but I haven’t, because he ruins every minute by saying things like, “Ooh, this bit’s really good!” or by providing some inane, plot-spoiling commentary. However, I now also know never to watch a film with him if neither of us has seen it but it’s based on a true story that he knows but I don’t. (In fact, this is exactly the same thing as the first scenario, so I should really have figured this out long ago.)

Last night we watched that film about those two racing drivers who didn’t get along, then one of them was hurt in an accident and the other one felt bad. Cat Daddy drove me mad with rage by randomly dropping in pieces of Formula 1 trivia and telling me who was going to win/crash/die next. In the end I stopped the film halfway through.

Me: “Right. Have you finished? Because I’m not starting the film again until you stop talking. If you have anything more to say about Formula 1, say it now and get it over with.”
Cat Daddy: “I was only trying to give some context.”
Me: “I don’t want to hear the context right now. I just want to watch the film. You can tell me the context afterwards.”
Cat Daddy: “Ok. Sorry.”
Me: “I’m serious. No more talking.”

[I pick up the remote to restart the film]

Catorze, jumping onto my lap: “Mwahhhh!”
Cat Daddy: “Bwahahahaha! Just as you say “No more talking”, HE pipes up!”
Me: “BE QUIET.”

[Catorze sticks his tail and arse in my face and blocks the screen]

Me: “Move!”

[Catorze moves, but only to turn his body the other way around so now I have the other side of his tail and arse blocking the screen]

Catorze: “MWAAAAAHHHH!”
Cat Daddy: “You see? Louis appreciates the context.”

And so on, and so on, until what would have been an excellent cinematic experience – and which might even have made me like Formula 1 – had it not been for their stupid interruptions, finally limped to an end.

Mesdames et Messieurs, this sort of thing is no longer just an isolated, silly incident in my life. This is now my actual life.

La chatière

There has been a cat flap malfunction here at Le Château. Whilst it still permits Louis Catorze to come and go as he pleases, it now makes a buzzing sound as he passes through. I had intended to contact Sureflap to ask them how to stop it, but I’ve had so much to do that I’ve not had a chance. That said, it doesn’t seem to be bothering him in the slightest; in fact, it’s quite funny hearing it and imagining Louis Catorze swiping his security pass and buzzing himself in.

Hearing it throughout the night doesn’t amuse us quite so much, though. It’s not especially loud – certainly not loud enough to permanently disturb our sleep – but it’s certainly made us aware of how many times Louis Catorze goes in and out whilst we’re asleep. He used to spend the whole night in our bed with us, but recently he’s become more adventurous and he’s started to go gadding about outside between 11pm and 6am. Occasionally he’s on our bed when we wake up but, more often than not, he’s still outside. Then, after I leave for work, he returns to bed, clambers all over Cat Daddy and hollers in his ear, and I receive a flurry of annoyed texts calling Louis Catorze some very rude names and threatening to lock him out all night.

There was something reassuring about knowing that our boy was with us all night, and I feel distinctly less comfortable at the prospect of him gallivanting around the neighbourhood. But, short of locking him in overnight (which I know he would hate), there’s not much I can do about it. The fact that The Back is very enclosed, far from cars and dogs, comforts me a little. As does the fact that Louis Catorze is too stupid to get into any proper trouble.

So, unless he comes home shredded to smithereens or otherwise traumatised, I think I shall just leave him to it. I can’t say I see the appeal of the cold autumn outdoes versus a cosy, warm anti-allergy bed with eye-wateringly expensive John Lewis duvet cover, but then I don’t suppose this will be the last time Louis Carorze does stupid shit that nobody can understand.