daddy

Mon papa, mon héros

~ iamthesunking ~ 5 Comments

I realise that cats often have a favourite human, but this is beyond a joke: in the run-up to my hospital stay I was largely ignored by Louis Catorze and, now that I’m home again, c’est la même chose.

Apart from a couple of meows when I first walked through the door – which I now realise were not “Welcome home!” but “Merde! Her again!” – and the moment when he kicked my surgical wound (whilst stepping over me to get to Cat Daddy’s lap), Louis Catorze has barely acknowledged my presence.

Luther, Louis Catorze’s big brother, very slightly preferred me but it was barely discernible, possibly about 45-55 in my favour. Louis Catorze, however, is very firmly a boys’ boy and it’s more like 80-20, with the little sod preferring his daddy, our male friends, builders, removal men and Ocado delivery drivers over me. And Cat Daddy has revelled in this by bombarding me with pictures of the two of them snuggling up together during my absence. Every day in the hospital I woke up to more photos of Catorze draped all over his daddy – and, to make matters worse, the photos continue to come even now that I’m home. Last night I received some whilst I was just 2 metres away, in the next room. This is one of them:

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My recovery time is 6 weeks so this is going to be a REALLY long summer, in every sense. I fear that not even the powers of novels and Netflix will be able to save me.

Papa est déçu

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Last week Cat Daddy ordered a trendy little drinks trolley from a swish furniture website, and, ever since, he has been going on and on about it to anyone who cares (and a few people who don’t).

This morning he had to pop into work for a bit, and he came home with a huge package in his arms. “It’s here!” he cried, unable to contain his joy. “And, would you believe, the delivery driver arrived at work just as I was leaving! How about that for good timing?” He grabbed a pair of sharp scissors, sliced deftly through the sticky tape and pulled the lid open.

Inside the box was not a drinks trolley, but an enormous sack of Acana Pacifica cat biscuits.

Cat Daddy’s face crumpled and dropped. “What?” he faltered. “This?”

“Erm, didn’t you wonder why it was rattling so much when you were carrying it home?” I asked, pretending to wipe my nose with a big tissue to hide my laughter.

“Well, yes,” he replied, “but I thought it was just the polystyrene packaging Wotsits shaking around. I can’t believe I just carried THIS all the way home!” He sank onto the sofa, still in disbelief at the magnitude of this disappointment; never have I seen such utter heartbreak on his face.

And Louis Catorze couldn’t have chosen a better/worse moment to pitter-patter into the kitchen, tail aloft, sniff the sack of food and promptly pitter-patter out again, as if to say, “Merci pour l’effort, Papa, but you needn’t have bothered.”

I wanted to take a picture of the parcel and post it here, but Cat Daddy got all cross when I suggested it and I wasn’t allowed. But, before he was able to chuck the packaging out, I caught Le Roi exploring it:

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No doubt when the trolley arrives – date to be confirmed – there will be further photos, this time with Catorze perched elegantly on top. (Cat Daddy got cross when I said that, too.)

Papa s’énerve

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I came downstairs this morning to find the living room looking like this, and my initial thought was, “How cute: Cat Daddy has set up a viewing platform for his boy to watch the world go by.”

However, the truth was somewhat different; it turned out that, late last night, after I had gone to bed, Cat Daddy had heard a commotion outside and gone to investigate. And, as soon as the front door was open, Louis Catorze had bolted off into The Forbidden Front and refused to come back.

The shutters were open so that Cat Daddy could keep a lookout for Catorze’s pathetic face meowing to be let in again. The Fortnum and Mason box thing was where Cat Daddy spent ages sitting, because he couldn’t see out properly from the sofa, and the stool was in place not as a viewing platform but as a resting place for the bottle of wine he needed to fuel his vigil.

“Can you believe it?” Cat Daddy sighed. “I didn’t dare go to bed leaving him outside at The Front. Yet, every time I tried to catch him, he’d run away, then stop and scream for a bit, then run further away. So I had to sit there until really late and wait for him to decide to come back.”

“At least we’ve learned that he comes back,” I said.

“Yeah,” Cat Daddy countered, “but we’ve also learned that he’s a little shit.”

Oh dear. Maybe Louis Catorze needs to be told that, if he keeps up this kind of behaviour, Papa Noël won’t be stopping by …

Je déteste les médicaments

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medication

Louis Catorze may or may not get his medication today and, unfortunately, I am leaning more towards “may not”. Getting a tiny pill into a 3kg cat may not seem like the twelve labours of Hercules, but all I can say is: “Try it yourself and see.”

First of all, it requires the cat to be present; this morning, when it was time for me to do the deed, Louis Catorze was not. There aren’t that many places for him to hide, but when you’re rushing to work and just 5 extra minutes make all the difference between being relaxed and on time or being panicked and late, there just isn’t the time to piss about looking for cats. Especially tiny black ones who can slip about unnoticed like little ghosts; those ones, when they don’t want to be found, are utterly unfindable.

Cat Daddy had rather more success in finding Louis Catorze when he got up after me, so he donned the riot gear and armed himself. However, being physically fit, having a weight advantage, being a general badass and all the other things that would usually help you to win a fight, are of no use whatsoever when it comes to dealing with a savage, fur-covered mini-Wolverine on steroids who, despite his diminutive stature, would shred your flesh like pulled pork without a care. The pill bounced off Louis Catorze’s face, ricocheted off the walls of the living room and vanished under the sofa; then, whilst Cat Daddy tried to retrieve it, canny kitty took the opportunity to flee to his mystery sulking den which we have yet to discover. He could very well still be there but, on account of it being a mystery, we just don’t know.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day – or rather, 8pm tonight is another dose and another attempt, and this time it will be my turn to take one for the team. Yikes.