It’s a full moon tonight. And, just as we thought Louis Catorze couldn’t possibly be any creepier, I am starting to believe that his fangs grow during the full moon.

Now, please hear me out.

Obviously teeth don’t keep growing in the same way that hair does. But something happens to Catorze during a full moon – his top lip contracts, or whatever – to give his fangs the appearance of having grown, in the same way that they look longer when he’s feeling mischievous and playful. And I thought I was imagining it until a few full moons ago, when Cat Daddy said to Catorze, “Look at you, Louis. It’s a full moon, your fangs are out, your eyes are like saucers and you’re ready to party.”

And party he did. Cat Daddy knows this because the little sod woke him with his horrendous, guttural screaming at 1:30am on that full moon night. The sound came from the direction of the Zone Libre outside, so no doubt there was an altercation with some unidentified creature.

Me: “Did you actually see him fighting?”

Cat Daddy: “No, but I heard him. And you just KNOW your own cat’s voice, don’t you?”

We do. Saint Jésus, we do.

The full moon has been associated with both magic and madness for thousands of years, so I see no reason why it WOULDN’T have an effect on an already-creepy, already-moon-sensitive, black vampire cat of extra-terrestrial and/or demonic origin. And, whilst having fangs that grow under a full moon is weird beyond belief, it still wouldn’t be Catorze’s weirdest trait, all things considered.

Here are the fangs, in all their vampiric glory and, as you can see, even when his mouth is closed they still stick out. Long may they remain:

It’s a full moon and, once again, Louis Catorze’s energy is through the roof, so much so that Cat Daddy has had to kick him out at The Front a couple of times, just to get some peace. Don’t worry, we always remember to retrieve him again (eventually), usually when his screaming becomes embarrassing.

We try to avoid leaving the house when Catorze is on the rampage at The Front. However, sometimes, if he escapes as we’re on our way out and we can’t grab hold of him to drag his arse back in, we don’t have much choice. Luckily he never roams far and, when we come home, he always greets us, screaming himself hoarse, rolling on the pavement and making a spectacle of himself.

One day he escaped as we were leaving to go out but, luckily, some guests were due to arrive later that evening and they had keys to Le Château. So we messaged them and asked if they would mind looking out for the little sod when they arrived, and shepherding him in if possible.

When we arrived home we found our guests engrossed in trashy reality TV, with Sa Maj happily pitter-pattering and chirping around them. We thanked them for letting him in and asked if he’d come willingly or whether he’d had to be forced/tricked.

You know what’s coming next, don’t you, Mesdames et Messieurs?

“He was already in when we arrived.”

Oh. Mon. Dieu.

As you are aware, once he is out at The Front there is no way of re-entering Le Château unless through a window, or by pitter-pattering many, many houses to the left or the right, then hopping over a fence and cutting through many, many gardens to come back again. The former was not available as an option at the time, and we have no evidence that he has either the brains or the inclination to do the latter.

HOW DOES HE DO THIS?

We took Louis Catorze for his steroid shot just a couple of days before the full moon. And, on the night of the full moon, I kept the uppermost shutters open because I like the moonlight coming in and I find it quite relaxing.

I have now paid the price for my stupidity.

Firstly, having the uppermost shutters open and the lower ones closed provides a platform onto/from which feral little sods can jump. And, secondly, direct moonlight flooding in, as opposed to it being hidden by the shutters, is rather like giving said feral little sods a neat double vodka instead of a single measure diluted with soda.

Catorze was absolutely manic all night, bouncing around from the shutters to the dresser to the bed to the bedside tables and back again, knocking bottles and jars to the floor and generally being a pain in the arse. I actually had to sit up in bed and yell at him, not that it did any good because he just resumed his stupid behaviour as soon as I had drifted off to sleep again.

The next morning I was as far from being relaxed as is humanly possible, and I had to crawl around on the floor to retrieve various skincare products which had been kicked from the dresser during the chaos and which had rolled under the bed.

Cat Daddy: “It’s your own fault. You should have known that he’d want to get up onto the shutters and look outside at the foxes in the park.” (???)

I had a lot of things to do that day, and I have no idea how managed them on no sleep. Catorze, of course, doesn’t have to concern himself with such trivialities, and happily enjoyed Boys’ Club as if nothing had happened.