On ne brisera pas les hommes

I have just returned home after a night away, having left the gentlemen of the household alone for a whole twenty-four hours.

Cat Daddy sent me many Catorze photos during my absence, proving that, for all his besmirching of us cat freaks, he is very much one of our number. This one was accompanied by the word “‘Elmo” and, after some confusion wondering who on earth Elmo was, I discovered that he had meant to write “‘Ello” but it had been autocorrected:

Nothing Saintly about this Elmo.

I thought perhaps at least one of the boys might be pleased to have me back, but this is what took place upon my return:

[Lots of Boys’ Club cuddles]

Me: “I haven’t seen him for a whole day, and he’s not even interested in saying hello.”

Cat Daddy: “Well, that’s because you abandoned him! [Turns to Louis Catorze:] Didn’t she? She abandoned us. It was just the two of us, wasn’t it? And didn’t we have the BEST time?”

Catorze: “Mwah!”

Me: “ …”

[More Boys’ Club cuddles]

Me: “ …”

It turns out that, during my absence, Cat Daddy had intended to shut the bedroom door overnight but, after a few too many Mâcon Villages, he had relented and left it open. So the little sod had pitter-pattered in and gorged himself senseless on the feeling of having his daddy to himself all night. And the pair of them are more smug and pleased with themselves than ever before.

This was Cat Daddy’s view when he woke up on Sunday morning:


Right now as I write, I am relegated to the end of the sofa whilst the boys continue their love-up. Such is life as the second favourite human in Le Château.

Le soir des rois, ou Ce que vous voudrez

Someone once told me, “Never eat anything bigger than your head” and, given that I have a head so fat that I can’t wear paper party hats without splitting them, I have been able to abide by this for most of my life without feeling that I am missing out.

Imagine, then, eating something bigger than your entire body. Considerably bigger, in fact. Louis Catorze had the opportunity to do exactly this when Cat Daddy bought a whole leg of jamón serrano for a ham and cheese night with friends. As you know, Catorze doesn’t really like food, but he won’t say non to some cured ham and, if it’s several times his own bodyweight, tant mieux.

Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: nothing says “good hosting” quite like serving guests the same food that you gave to your cat to make him take his meds.

Cat Daddy: “It isn’t the same food that we gave to our cat to make him take his meds. We gave him the much higher-quality jambon de Bayonne.”

You’re welcome, les invités.

Anyway, unlike most cats, who hide from party guests or have to be shut away to minimise their own stress levels, Louis Catorze attended our gathering, even though he wasn’t invited. And, bien sûr, he conspicuously chose the boys’ corner of the room and mingled like a true socialite. It was like watching Hugh Hefner in the Playboy Mansion: spoilt for choice and not knowing what to do with himself.

And, yes, the little sod did get a few slivers of jamón, too.

Bonne année à tous!