gifts

Préparer Noël, Préparer Noël

~ iamthesunking ~ 21 Comments

You know that part in Tim Burton’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas” when the kids’ presents turn into hideous, nightmarish monsters?

Yeah, well:

“Boys and men of ever-y age, do you want to see something strange?”

Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: Louis Catorze has claimed, as his new bed, my nieces’ and nephews’ presents bag. Luckily each item is individually bagged, keeping them safe from the horrors of cat hair, flea poo and whatever else (I daren’t even think too hard about it). But that’s not the point. He has 9,062 other beds. He doesn’t need more beds. And he certainly doesn’t need something that was never designed to be a bed, as his bed.

Part of me has a good mind to wrap him up and send him along with the other parcels. But that would be too cruel, even to the ones who have been naughty (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE).

It’s a good thing we are happy to have him as our gift this festive season. I guess someone has to.

Ce n’est pas seulement un lit

~ iamthesunking ~ 18 Comments

After coming back from Louis Catorze’s vet appointment on Tuesday, Cat Daddy and I debated how and when to Gabapentin him.

Cat Daddy: “You could do it in the morning.”

Me: “But that’s when he and I have our morning cuddles. Plus it means my day starts with a stress.”

Him: “How about when you come home?”

Me: “…”

Him: “…”

Me: “Can’t you do it?”

Him: “But then he’ll hate me. He needs to have one of us that he can trust.”

[Silence, tumbleweed, crickets.]

Anyway, I drew the short straw and I’m the bad guy. It’s not fun. But if I do it in the morning, because the little sod has the Post-Steroid Hungries, it seems I’m forgiven quite quickly.

In other news 9,083 sleeping spots aren’t enough, and you simply have to look for one more. Preferably one that isn’t anywhere near as nice as the others.

This is one of those times.

For reasons that we cannot fathom – and, quite frankly, nor do we want to – Catorze decided that, today, he wanted to sleep on the Marks and Spencer bag containing my nieces’ and nephews’ presents.

Cats: why? And, please, don’t bother saying “Because cat”. That excuse just doesn’t wash anymore.

I’m not even going to ask.

À cheval donné on ne regarde pas les dents

~ iamthesunking ~ 8 Comments

Blue the Smoke Bengal gave Louis Catorze a Christmas gift, which was very generous of him given that Catorze hasn’t done the slightest thing to deserve it and, in fact, has been quite rude and unpleasant to him. This must be what it feels like when your kid is the awful one whom all the other kids hate, but their parents still go out of their way to be nice because they feel sorry for you.

If some other cat were mean to Catorze I’m not sure I’d be bothered to give him/her a gift, and I’d probably judge the human for their poor parenting skills, but good for Blue’s mamma for being the bigger person here.

The Trojan horse.

Anyway, the gift was a set of ELEVEN jingle bell cat toys, and they are the noisiest things I have ever heard. Catorze loves them, with his preferred playtimes appearing to be the times that are the least convenient for us: during tense football matches or television dramas, that kind of thing. In the middle of the night would, I imagine, also be an excellent time, were it not for that fact that we do an inventory of the balls before we go to bed at night, just like in prison kitchens where they count in the knives at the end of every shift.

Bien joué, Blue’s mamma. Bien joué.

Here are a few of the offending items. Even the soft ones have bells in them.

Le retour de l’hiver

~ iamthesunking ~ 2 Comments

Louis Catorze’s list of winter solstice gift recipients is mercifully short, due to the fact that he doesn’t really have any friends. There are a few characters to whom he likes to spread some festive cheer, although the reality is that he doesn’t mix with most of them or even know them at all. I think anyone who has ever had any kind of social media account can relate to this. 

Anyway, Sa Maj’s “friends” are as follows:

  1. Oscar the dog (a Yorkshire terrier and the Flash Gordon to Louis Catorze’s Ming the Merciless)
  2. Cocoa the babysit cat (a larger and rather more photogenic version of Catorze, minus the scary teeth)
  3. Cat-Cousin Alfie (a tabby with a voice like a dog’s squeaky toy)
  4. Cat-Auntie Zelva (a black and white kitty who looks like Mr Potato Head from Toy Story)
  5. Nala the dog (the Cockapoo featured in this year’s Hallowe’en entry of Le Blog)
  6. Noah the dog (a Cavapoo who loves brass bands)
  7. Zoox, my workplace dog (a Hungarian wire-haired Vizsla – no, I had never heard of them before, either – with a knowing, almost-human face)

Cat Daddy: “But, of all these animals, he’s only actually met one. And that one hates him and wants him dead.”

C’est vrai. Zut. 

I am the one who takes charge of the buying, because Cat Daddy doesn’t approve of gifts for pets. (“Bloody ridiculous! What the bloody hell is this world coming to?” is, I believe, what he said.) If you are around the same age as me, you will recall that, during our childhood, the only pet gifts available were one generic festive stocking for cats and one for dogs. That was it.  Now, of course, things are different. Cat clothing, anyone? Novelty beds? Advent calendars? (I’m not joking: Google them.) 

Anyway, as this time of year is all about thinking of others, we will be buying for the little sod’s friends but donating what would have been his gift money to Lilly’s Legacy, one of his favourite rescues. If you would like to do the same, their PayPal address is lillyslegacy@hotmail.com. 

Wishing you all the joys of the winter season, with love from me, Cat Daddy and Louis Catorze. 


Une fourmi noire sur une pierre noire

~ iamthesunking ~ 2 Comments

image4 days have passed since SlugGate and, despite Louis Catorze’s contrite confession being shared multiple times across the internet (see photo), the trauma of the event is as great as it was on that night. I have had recurring nightmares of slugs who mate and spawn more mini-slugs, then those mini-slugs mate and spawn minier slugs, and so on, until the world is waist-deep in slimy, squirming slugs of assorted sizes. And, when I’m not asleep and dreaming of slugs, I’m awake and checking my pillow multiple times throughout the night.

Cat Daddy’s dismissive response was: “Well, that’s what cats do. You shouldn’t have touched it.” Firstly, no, it isn’t. And, secondly, there’s a North African proverb (in French, naturellement) along the lines of, “God sees everything, even a black ant on a black rock on a dark night.” I am not God.

Louis Catorze, in the meantime, remains a remorse-free zone and continues to pitter-patter about Le Château as if nothing happened, wafting his lime fragrance as he goes. If only there were a section in my myriad of cat books and magazines, entitled, “How to tell your cat: NO MORE GIFTS, MERCI.”