Il est Bleu, da-ba-dee-da-ba-dai …

At the weekend I was chat-sitting Blue the Smoke Bengal whilst his mamma was away.

I am very lucky that I was trusted to look after him, after what happened last time. During the Easter holidays I was supposed to feed him from Sunday evening to Thursday morning, and I forgot. I don’t know how I could have possibly done such a thing, but I did.

Cat Daddy and I were out walking on the Monday morning when I remembered. We had just reached the point in our walk where we could choose between the long route and the short route and, naturellement, after realising my grave oversight, we chose the latter and powered round as quickly as possible so that we could get home for Blue. As we walked we debated whether or not I should tell Blue’s mamma, and I was leaning more towards not saying anything if he were fine when I arrived.

I felt awful about it, and I told Cat Daddy that I’d be livid if someone had done this to Louis Catorze.

Cat Daddy: “Would you really, though?”

Me: “Actually … maybe not. If it were just one day, then no.”

Cat Daddy: “But if they didn’t say anything, and I found out afterwards, I’d be pissed off.”

Merde.

When I went to Maison Blue, I discovered that his mamma had had a Ring doorbell fitted since the last time I went over. Those things send you a notification if you have so much as an leaf blowing past, so she would know perfectly well that I hadn’t been over on the Sunday evening.

MERDE.

Luckily Blue was perfectly ok, and he purred and rolled when I walked into the house. As I cuddled him, I said, “I’m so sorry, boy. I let you down yesterday evening, didn’t I?” I then realised that there was another camera-type device plugged into the hallway, which had probably recorded what I’d said.

MERDE MERDE MERDE.

In terms of evidence against me, it doesn’t get much worse than video surveillance and a taped confession. If this were a criminal investigation, Blue’s mamma’s legal team would be pressing for the death penalty.

Anyway, when she gave me some lovely chilli goat’s cheese to say thank you for looking after Blue, I decided that I couldn’t accept it with a clear conscience and so I confessed. Blue’s mamma was absolutely fine about it, and clearly didn’t think my offence was cheese-withholdingly bad because she insisted that I take the gift anyway. She added that Blue was a bit of a chubber and so one delayed meal wouldn’t have done him any harm. This is true. Plus he is an adept hunter, AND he is clearly visiting at least one household for their all-you-can-eat self-service buffet, so he certainly wouldn’t have starved to death.

Here is the big sod, telling me to hurry the hell up with his food:

“Come on, chop chop!”