À ses souhaits

It’s happened before, Mesdames et Messieurs, and I don’t know why I didn’t learn my lesson from the last time: the minute I boast about Louis Catorze’s astonishingly good health, something goes wrong. 

Remember when I played Saint Jérôme to his lion and extracted a HUGE piece of grass from his poor little nose? (The full story is here, in case you missed it at the time: https://jesuisleroisoleil.wordpress.com/2017/07/02/saint-jerome-et-le-lion/)

Well, the little sod now has something else stuck up there. I can’t prove it but I know it. I am even inclined to believe that he remembers me removing the grass the last time, as he won’t leave me alone and even allowed me to look up his nose and down his throat. (If you have followed Le Blog for any length of time, you will know that he would usually kick me unconscious and leave me for dead for trying to pull a stunt like this.)

For the moment his snorts seem to be quite infrequent – one or two a day, as opposed to several times an hour the last time – and he is managing to eat, drink, scream, purr, sleep and sit outside for hours on Rodent Duty. But I can see that, if the blockage doesn’t work its way out – or at least make itself known so that I can pull it out – we are going to have to make our third vet trip in as many weeks. 

For once, unbelievably, I am actually HOPING he will spew up something unpleasant – yes, even whilst lying on the trousers that I was going to return to Marks and Spencer but now can’t as they are full of cat hair (see below). Please send Catorze your best vomiting vibes. 

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Parce qu’il le vaut bien

Louis Catorze had his annual booster injections yesterday, and it was nothing short of wondrous to be able to have such a straightforward visit. Well, when I say “straightforward” I mean the treatment required, not the overall experience. Naturellement we had the usual screaming on the journey there and the usual brutal combat during the injection, although this time it was I who had the merde kicked out of me and not the vet. And, to quite literally add insult to injury, the little sod refused me cuddles but was happy to have them with the vet and with a delighted 7-year-old boy whom I invited into the examination room with us because he was desperate to see the black vampire kitty. (Cat Daddy later on: “Other people come into the examination room with you, JUST TO SEE HIM?”)

Health-wise everything was great: no pressing problems to discuss with the vet as Catorze’s eye is now fine, no having to pre-order the special vaccine which didn’t clash with his myriad of other treatments, no new medication to pay for, just turning up, having him weighed and injected, gritting my teeth through the kicking and screaming and then going home again. 

It’s been a tough road getting Catorze to this level of health but, despite being an ungrateful little sod, he is worth it, and you would understand if you were to see his heartbreaking “Before” photos. They are too upsetting to post here and, in fact, I have only ever shown them to 3 people: my friend in South Africa who runs a feline health forum, a lady in Malaysia whose cat had similar symptoms and, erm, a famous Asian celebrity to whom I sent them by accident because she happened to have the same name as the lady in Malaysia. But, trust me, the transformation is miraculous, and it’s hard to believe that he is the same cat.

Not long after our return, as I attended to the lacerations on my hand – who knew that a cat’s BACK feet could be such lethal slashing machines? – Catorze recovered from his anguish by rolling on the pavement at The Front, which dogs have used multiple times as les toilettes. Quelle joie. 

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Je braille, donc je suis

What a wild few weeks it has been at Le Château. La belle France have come out on top, with even Oscar the dog’s daddy putting money on them. Louis Catorze has had an unrelenting whirlwind of attention from visiting football fans. And, best of all, he has displayed some razor-sharp match predictions, which has been a poke in the eye for cynical, doubting Cat Daddy.

Sa Majesté has even correctly indicated some of the finer details of matches which were not apparent during the prediction, but which later became clear as they played out; after agonising for ages about the butterfly (see previous entry) and what it could possibly signify, and even wondering if it could be a streaker, I now see that this was the pitch invasion by the aptly-named Pussy Riot.

Now that the excitement of the football is over, Louis Catorze is back to screaming. He just won’t shut up, and Cat Daddy said the other day that it was “getting him down”. 

He screams before we get up. He screams when we get up. He screams when we’re just watching TV and minding our own business. And, not long ago, when we arrived home from work (and he had escaped out at The Front), he greeted us in the street with such gut-wrenching screaming that we hid in the car because we were so embarrassed. Yes, it was mortifying beyond belief. And, yes, we got it on video (available on request, and screen shots of which are shown here). 

Nothing whatsoever is wrong; the little sod just likes screaming. We don’t, but then he has never concerned himself with what we like or want, and I don’t suppose he is going to start now. 

As a child, when I did a first aid course, I recall the teacher telling me that silent casualties were to be dealt with more urgently than screaming ones, because “if they’re screaming, it means they’re alive and breathing”. Le Roi certainly is. And, given the sad little thing he was when he first came to live here (sleeping all the time, barely interacting with us), I guess this is a good thing. 

So we’re just going to let him enjoy being healthy and happy. And possibly also buy earplugs. 

En (presque) parfaite santé

imageIt’s been a month and 2 days since Louis Catorze’s last steroid shot. Each shot is designed to last 3-4 weeks, but I have good news: it looks as if we may be able to stretch this one out for a little longer. His eye puffiness is minimal, he has barely any scabbiness on his chin and, best of all, the Greta Garbo mood doesn’t seem to have taken hold this time. Le Roi is still happy, dynamic, bothering the local urban wildlife and scenting the air with sweet, tangy lime wherever he goes.

So we have a few days’ reprieve until the next trip to the vet, and Louis Catorze will be spending this time mostly sleeping, chirping and meeting new pilgrims. He is very much looking forward to seeing tomorrow’s guests, who read about him online and thought, “An unphotogenic, itchy, stupid cat who does nothing? Yup, sounds worth a visit.”

Je suis en bonne santé!

Louis Catorze has been high on the attention from his visitors since the weekend, racing about, constantly demanding attention and generally being a pain in the arse. However, yesterday he was brought rapidly back down to earth with a trip to the vet, for the vaccinations that he was unable to have the last time.

I wasn’t able to take him so he went with Cat Daddy instead. After the previous shockers that we’ve had, I had expected something like the apocalypse, only worse … but I’m happy to report that all went well. Apart from a minor waiting room débâcle in which he roused his other feline comrades into some sort of mass sing-song/protest session, the whole experience was without incident.

The vaccinations took place smoothly, his temperature and weight were fine (he’s put on another 150g and now tips the scales at a portly 3.6kg), and overall the vet was delighted at his improvement. In fact, she told Cat Daddy, “Is this really Louis? As in, skin problem Louis? I can’t believe how much better he looks!” Better yet, there was no Post-Vet Sulk upon getting home; in fact, he was all over Cat Daddy, who was working from home yesterday, and annoyed the crap out of him all afternoon. Here he is having a rest from it all:

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How lovely to have some good news for a change. We couldn’t be more thrilled.

Le Roi s’en fiche: vive Le Roi!

Louis Catorze is pretty unconcerned about all the fuss and furore caused by his test results. Here he is, displaying his best “pretty unconcerned” look:


However, he’s also looking super-healthy, with glossy fur, virtually no scabs or broken skin, and bald patches that are slowly filling in. And he’s chatty, chirpy, swishy-tailed and full of energy. Something we’re doing is working for him right now; let’s hope it continues to do so for as long as possible.

We’ve had no news as yet from the vet about the skin scraping, so I’ve been looking into other possibilities. Some very kind friends recommended a bioenergetics company who analyse animal hair samples and prescribe a toxin-free remedy, so I’ve been in touch with them and requested a testing kit. The best thing about the remedy is that it can be dropped into Louis Catorze’s drinking water or onto his skin, as opposed to being syringed into his mouth after terrifying the life out of him with a surprise attack. Sometimes it’s all about the delivery: the best cure in the world is no good to me if violence and bloodshed are involved.

At £100 this remedy is not cheap but it has to be worth a go, just in case the western medicine route sends us down another dead end. I’m not sure if Cat Daddy will agree as he thinks alternative therapies are for hippy-dippy airheads who eat fairy dust and pink sparkles; that said, he never reads this, so I might just try it anyway and see how long it takes him to find out.