J’adore rouler

As you know, after what happened to our darling Luther, we are very nervous about Louis Catorze being allowed out at The Front. However, recently he’s ramped up his efforts to escape in a big way: previously he used to bolt the minute anyone opened the door, but now he actually tries to trick us by casually and disinterestedly lounging when we open the door, waiting until our guard drops and THEN bolting. So clearly he’s not so thick.

Recently we’ve started to allow him very limited, supervised Front sessions on days when the traffic is quiet. My reasons for doing so are because I fear that the silly sod will accidentally end up stuck out there one day, and will be too stupid to know where his home is. Cat Daddy, on the other hand, is more concerned about the cultural enrichment of his boy; in fact, I have a video of him holding Louis Catorze up to the front window and saying, “There’s a whole world out there, Louis. I wish you’d take more of an interest in your surroundings!” (I can’t post the video here because Cat Daddy becomes exasperated with his boy’s inertia and says a rude word at the end.)

Unfortunately, the supervised access to The Front hasn’t really enhanced Catorze’s quality of life so far, because he doesn’t take the time to look; all he does is run outside chirping, roll around on the cold concrete (I KNOW) and come in again.

Cat Daddy filmed him recently (a still from that film is attached below), demonstrating that, quite frankly, they are both weirdos. I am just thankful that nobody wandering past saw either of them.

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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 …