La patte de Dieu

Oh, Louis Catorze: how DO you do it? 

La France have played all 3 group matches, and the little sod seems to have been startlingly accurate with his predictions. In case you missed the excitement, here is a brief summary (you’re welcome): 

Match 1 (la France et l’Australie): Sa Majesté refused both pieces of food. Outcome: La France beat l’Australie (but the VAR revealed that one of the French goals should not have been a goal, so technically the referee was wrong but Catorze was right).

Match 2 (la France et le Pérou): Sa Majesté ate the French food. Outcome: La France beat le Pérou. 

Match 3 (la France et le Danemark): Sa Majesté refused both foods, screamed, then ran to hide. Outcome: A dull, goalless draw in which both teams were booed and jeered for their strategic time wasting; clearly Catorze had picked up on the poor, ungentlemanly play and decided that such mediocrity was not fitting for a Sun King. 

Cat Daddy: “This is absolute effing nonsense. People must be getting bored of it. I certainly am.”

So that I can embarrass Cat Daddy even further, we are having a football barbecue later today, with Louis Catorze as the star attraction. This means MORE BOYS COMING TO LE CHATEAU, so, bien sûr, Sa Majesté will be in his element. 

We couldn’t* get hold of any proper grass-fed Argentinian beef, so we had to make do with a sliver of supermarket fillet steak on l’Assiette de Prophétie. And the Argentinian representative was the only living soul who has had more drugs in him than Louis Catorze: Diego Maradona, pictured below with the same look that Catorze has after a steroid shot:

*I wasn’t allowed to

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This is what happened: 

  1. Sa Majesté licked the beef, then pitter-pattered away with his tail up 
  2. Cat Daddy: “When the octopus did his predictions, just one touch determined the winner. Maybe this means Argentina will win on penalties?”
  3. Cat Daddy again: “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. Don’t put that in your blog!”

Let’s hope that God will be regretting THAT helping hand in 1986, and that he will swing the result Francewards to redress the balance. Allez les Bleus! 

L’amuse-bouche

As you are aware, the pilling has been going excruciatingly badly, with Louis Catorze becoming more and more adept at spitting out, clamping his jaws shut or being a menace in some other violent way.

Many people have suggested hiding the Gabapentin in food, but Louis Catorze doesn’t really like food – he can even take or leave Dreamies – so this wouldn’t be tempting enough. But, yesterday, I remembered that he was quite fond of the jamón Ibérico that Oscar the dog’s folks brought for us from their holiday. We haven’t given him any since, so it may have been a one-off fluke but … qui ose gagne, oui?

Cat Daddy pulled a face when I suggested wrapping a pill in jamón Ibérico. “What makes you think that would work? We’ve never given him jamón Ibérico, ever.”

Oh. Oops.

After the inevitable lecture I pleaded with him to at least try it, reminding him that a small spend versus thrice-daily torment was surely worth a punt. So off he went to the supermarket for the French equivalent, which is jambon de Bayonne, but there wasn’t any so he had to make do with Gabapentin con prosciutto di Parma.

Et nom de Dieu: THE LITTLE SOD ACTUALLY ATE IT.

Early this morning, he ate another dose.

And, all being well, he will keep eating them until he’s well again,

THIS IS LIFE-CHANGING. No more disturbed sleep! No more physical fights during unsociable hours! No more stressing about going on holiday and having our cat-sitter shredded to death! Should he end up needing medication for life, all we’d have to do is prepare a few hammy, druggy hors d’oeuvres in advance and notre ami will do the rest.

La vie n’est pas belle … but it’s certainly less merdique than it was previously.

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