winter

Les diodes lumineuses (Partie 3)

~ iamthesunking ~ 23 Comments

I am lucky enough to run a paranormal club – nicknamed Spooky Club – at school. This is something that would terrify most headteachers and parents but, luckily, ours are progressive and trusting and let me get on with it. Our most recent session was about thermal cameras and the creepy things that show up on them.

You can sense where this is going, non?

I decided to tell my students about The Curious Incident with Chris the Heating Engineer on the Infra-Red Camera. They’re a cynical bunch and they think everything is Photoshop or Fake News, so I was ready for them to debunk my story with some sort of perfectly logical explanation.

Kid 1: “What colour is your cat, Miss? And what colour is the floor?”

Me: “Black cat, grey floor. Why?”

Kid 1: “Oh, right. I was gonna say that if the cat and the floor were the same colour, maybe they’d absorb or reflect infra-red waves in the same way. But they’re not.”

Kid 2: “Had the cat been outside, Miss?”

Me: “Yes, but he’d been indoors for ten minutes at that point. So he should have warmed up.”

Kid 2: “Maybe he was still cold from being outside?”

Kid 3: “That still shouldn’t mean he was the same blue as the cold floor, though. If you’re showing up as blue on the camera, you’re basically dead.”

Kid 4: “How long have you had your cat, Miss?”

Me: “Nearly ten years.”

Kid 4: “And is this the first time he’s done weird stuff?”

[Silence, tumbleweed, crickets.]

Anyway, after spending the rest of the session Googling pictures of cats on infra-red cameras to see if there were any that resembled what I saw on that fateful day (nope) and begging the headteacher to spend £2,000 on an infra-red camera so that they could mess about with it and attempt to recreate The Curious Incident (also nope), the kids concluded that, perhaps, Catorze was possessed and needed an exorcism. I already knew this anyway.

Oh, and my colleague who teaches Physics confirmed that what I’d witnessed makes no scientific sense. I already knew this, too.

A normal cat, as seen on an infra-red camera. (Picture from gst.ir.net.)
My weird cat, with no effects or filters whatsoever.

Les diodes lumineuses (Partie 2)

~ iamthesunking ~ 12 Comments

After The Curious Incident with Chris the Heating Engineer on the Infra-Red Camera, but before my post about it went live, I told Cat Daddy what had happened. The first thing he did was fall about laughing. The second thing he did was tell me that he didn’t believe me.

Darkness and light.

Him: “So did Chris see it, too, then?”

Me: “Yes. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Him: “Did you get a photo of it?”

Me: “No.”

Him: “That’s a shame. It would’ve made a good blog post if you’d had the photo to back it up.”

Me: “People will believe me, with or without the photo. They know that it’s too ridiculous to be made up.”

Him: “I suppose we could ask Chris to put the infra-red on again when he comes back?”

How bold of him to assume that Chris will come back. And, in the unlikely event that he does, and Catorze allows himself to be infra-redded again, what do you suppose will happen?

1. The little sod will appear exactly as I described, with an ice-cold body and eyes of fire? (Nope.)

2. The little sod will be utterly invisible, like a vampire in front of a mirror? (Possible.)

3. The little sod will light himself up like the Eiffel Tower on Saint-Sylvestre, looking, for all the world, like a normal cat, just to spite me? (BINGO.)

Oh. Mon. Dieu.

Les diodes lumineuses

~ iamthesunking ~ 46 Comments

Our under-floor heating has malfunctioned again, right in the middle of our cold snap. This meant another visit from Chris the heating engineer, which was good news for Louis Catorze as he loves men. Family members, friends, delivery drivers, tradesmen, random passers-by, trick-or-treating youths … Catorze will happily accept cuddles from any or all of the above.

Aww, how cute and uncreepy.

When Chris arrived, Catorze was outside on Rodent Duty. However, when he realised that there was a new man in his Château, he raced in, screaming.

Catorze: “Mwah! Mwah! Mwahhhhh!”

Me: “Oh. Erm, sorry about our cat. He loves it when visitors come, especially men.”

Chris: “Really? It’s usually the opposite with cats. They run away from me.”

Catorze: “‘MWAHHHHH!”

Chris then took an infra-red gadget from his bag – the same kind of gadget that they use on ghost-hunting programmes to detect temperature changes – and paced around the kitchen with it facing down towards the floor. He then said, “Look at the cat!” and pointed it at Catorze, who was sitting and creepy-staring at him.

I swear to Goddess: Catorze’s body on the screen was deep teal blue, as stone-cold as the floor around him, with heat radiating just from his red eyes.

Me: “Why isn’t he hot all over? Why is the heat just in that one place?”

Chris: “Strange. It’s just his eyes, isn’t it?”

Me: “…”

Him: “…”

Catorze: “Mwah!”

Chris left quite quickly after that.

I wish I’d taken a photo of what the gadget was showing us. That said, you have all known for years that Sa Maj is not of this world, non?

Wow, BingBot, it’s as if you were actually there!

Entre le diable et la mer bleue profonde

~ iamthesunking ~ 30 Comments

Louis Catorze has barely budged from the living room recently. Every time we wonder whether he’s ill, we check on him and see that he’s perfectly fine. Then it dawned on Cat Daddy that his poor boy is probably taking refuge from the dreaded guitar.

Yes, Cat Daddy is still practising for several hours a day in the kitchen. And, yes, Catorze is still hating it with every grain of his being.

I came home from work the other night and was greeted by an incensed Catorze. The reason for his outrage? The cleaner was vacuuming, and Cat Daddy was playing the guitar. Yes, his two least favourite things in the world, in his Château, AT THE SAME TIME.

The little sod followed me upstairs and circled me as I changed my clothes, screaming absolute bloody murder. The only way of calming him down was to cuddle him on the bed and do his favourite thing: squeeze and rub his belly flesh quite firmly (sounds cruel but, trust me, he loves this).

By early evening I thought he would have recovered from his double-trauma. However, although he wasn’t angry anymore, he was alternating between creepy-staring and whimpering like a needy child, and I’m ashamed to say that I buckled under the pressure of his sinister intimidation-guilt combo. I took down the tree decorations with one hand whilst cradling Catorze over my shoulder, like a baby, with the other. It was just as absurd as it sounds and 986 times more difficult; unwinding lights from a tree whose Blood-Letting Needles of Death slash you with every movement is quite the Herculean labour even with two hands, let alone with one.

Anyway, our house is clean, the living room deYuled and Catorze back where he belongs, in his happy place. Cat Daddy, however, has a dead arm after having to watch television like this, which is a whole new way of being TUC:

Cat Daddy, don’t move a muscle!

Catorze loves his papa. But he still wishes he would stop playing the guitar.

À l’aube d’une nouvelle année

~ iamthesunking ~ 37 Comments
At the top of the tree, where he belongs.

The winter solstice is here. A brand new journey around the sun starts today.

Over the last twelve months or so, Louis Catorze has sadly lost some of his (younger) amis: his cat-cousin King Ghidorah left us last December, as did Shadow the black Labrador at the end of April, and Merlyn, the daddy of the Northern tuxedo cat gang, in September.

King Ghidorah, who transitioned from stray cat to pampered house pet.
Shadow, having fun in the snow.
Merlyn, drawing our attention to his heartbreakingly empty bowl.

It’s made us realise how lucky we are to still have Catorze around at all, let alone him being in such good form. He is miraculous and creepy in equal measure, an impish mix of Dorian Gray, Peter Pan and all the Twilight vampires, and I will probably spend the rest of my life, long after he is gone, trying to understand why he was put on this earth (apart from to annoy the merde out of us).

Whatever you and your furry overlords are planning over the next few days, and however you choose to celebrate (or not), we hope you have a wonderful time. Thank you for supporting us and Catorze, and may everything good about the season come your way.

Catorzian feet.

Une température hivernale

~ iamthesunking ~ 13 Comments

What are your two favourite things to wear?

A thick jumper and a fluffy blanket. I’m not joking.

This is something of a middle-class problem, but the under-floor heating in our kitchen has broken and the place is freezing. Cat Daddy and I prepare meals at lightning speed and then race into the living room – which is deliciously toasty-warm – to eat them.

So, naturellement, Louis Catorze has decided that now is the time to barge into the living room whilst we’re defrosting our frozen extremities, leaving the door wide open and letting the heat escape. And he doesn’t just do this once or twice. Over the course of an evening he does this maybe ten times? Possibly more? Who knows? The thought of counting the incidents is the only thing more annoying the the incidents themselves.

Sometimes Catorze will even open the living room door to let himself out, CHANGE HIS MIND ABOUT GOING OUT, then come and sit back down with us, leaving the door open. So one of us – usually me – has to close it again. I have had to make sure one of Catorze’s stick toys is always at hand, so that I can lean over and use it to close the door without leaving the sofa. The little sod HAS to be doing this on purpose. Since cats know how to open doors, it can’t be THAT hard for them to close them afterwards?

Chris the heating engineer will be coming to fix things today. Will Catorze leave him alone and let him get on with it … or will it be another one of those times when his interference causes a two-hour job to last several days?

Off you go into your nice, warm igloo. Don’t mind us.

Le froid est un état d’esprit

~ iamthesunking ~ 36 Comments

What’s your favourite month of the year? Why?

October, October, October, morning, noon and night. But, since Le Blog is already quite October-centric, I thought I’d make a change and write about December, which is my second favourite.

I love the frost, the dark mornings, the Yuletide decorations, the snow-set horror films, the seasonal ghost stories and the two glorious weeks off work. And I love the food. Oh God, I love the food. December is the one month of the year when I can buy a whole salmon terrine which serves six to eight people, and eat it all by myself.

If you know any Brits and plan to meet us this month, we will probably greet you by saying, “Oof! Bit chilly out!” and then doing a theatrical little shiver. It’s practically the law for us to say that to people as soon as December hits.

My workplace conversations often start (and end) like this:

Colleague: “Oof! Bit chilly out!” [Theatrical little shiver.]

Me: “I like it when it’s like this.”

Them: “…”

Me: “I know. I’m weird.”

Them: “Anyway, have a good day.”

In December, Louis Catorze is permanently attached to my lap in the daytime but leaves me the hell alone at night, preferring either his igloo or the fluffy brown blanket. If he chooses the latter, by the time I wrap myself in the blanket for my morning tea ritual, he has warmed it for me. And, once I do so, he hops onto my lap and we warm each other. So everyone’s warm and happy.

TUC is the best way to be.

Maybe Catorze has finally started to act his age (and his species)? Erm … if that’s what you’re thinking, let me stop you there. And, whilst most normal, older cats are shifting into hibernation mode, Catorze still finds the time and the energy to do this:

Right. I see.

I hope that the beauty of my second favourite month is bringing you as much joy as it is to Catorze. Are your furry overlords members of Team Sleeping-On-Fluffy-Blankets, Team Jumping-On-Shutters or, like our little sod, do they flit between both?

Des amis pour faire la fête, on en trouve des milliers

~ iamthesunking ~ 27 Comments

It’s 1st December or, as I like to call it, the first day of Psychological Winter.

Although we are very much a nature-minded household – well, it’s hard not to be when we live with a black vampire cat who informs us via his naughty behaviour when there’s a Bad Moon Rising – the date switching from November to December means it’s no longer autumn. My heart wants to believe that winter starts on the winter solstice, but my brain won’t let it; if I’m opening windows on my advent calendar and scraping ice off my car, then it’s not autumn.

Autumn, winter, whatever. Couldn’t give a merde.

Cat Daddy and I are having a competition to see which of us can attend more festive lunches than the other. So far, I’m winning with four versus Cat Daddy’s two, and he’s not happy about it. And he still maintains the idea that I cheated by starting mine in late November, whereas I just call that being organised.

So Cat Daddy threatened to have a Boys’ Club Christmas party, just him and Louis Catorze, to enable him to add one more to his tally. However, when I held him to his threat and even offered to make them some jambon de Bayonne and Comté canapés for the party, he started to backtrack.

Him: “I can’t have a Christmas party with just my cat. That’s the kind of thing some weird loner would do.”

Me: “I’d totally do it, if I could.”

Him: “So why don’t you?”

Erm, because the cat would decline my invitation, that’s why.

I am hoping that if I continue to bully encourage Cat Daddy, he will change his mind. Catorze would love nothing more than some festive fun with his papa but, in the meantime, he has other friends with whom to hang out.

Here he is, pictured at a previous Yuletide soirée, most likely laughing at one of his own jokes:

Krampus and Krampuss.

Un chat domestiqué?

~ iamthesunking ~ 26 Comments

Hallowe’en came and went, and Louis Catorze delivered us the biggest scare imaginable: he behaved. I know. Take all the time you need to absorb that information.

Our first trick-or-treaters came knocking not long after 5pm. Many of them commented on our “Beware of the black cat” pumpkin, at which point Cat Daddy would approach the doorway and unveil Catorze, holding him aloft. The kids were absolutely delighted to learn that there was a real black cat, all chorusing “Awww!” whilst their parents took photos. And Catorze just hung there in mid-air, letting it all happen.

Not once did he show any interest in trying to escape out at The Front. His only act of naughtiness was to come in from The Back, soaking wet and muddy, and tread gross paw prints all over Cat Daddy’s white shirt. Other than that he was impeccably behaved.

Could it be that his years have finally caught up with him, and that he simply doesn’t have the energy to be naughty anymore? Or is it a sign of the End of Days?

Little sod.

Un salon chaud et confortable

~ iamthesunking ~ 22 Comments

It’s half term … and, in typical teacher fashion, I am sick. I’ve been all night with throat pain and, as his new favourite thing appears to be to sleep on top of me, either on my chest or across my stomach like a living belt, Louis Catorze isn’t helping.

Yesterday, after clearing his bowl, Catorze approached me and sat at my feet, creepy-staring at me. I thought he wanted more food. But, instead of assuming his usual position under the breakfast bar when I headed for his food cupboard, he pitter-pattered towards the front room.

He wasn’t hungry. He wanted us to change rooms. And we know this because he’s done it before.

I dutifully followed Catorze to the front room, ignoring the string of Unrepeatable Expletives muttered by Cat Daddy under his breath. When I reached the front room, Saint Jésus: IT WAS WARM! Gloriously so, in fact. The little sod wasn’t just being weird; he’d had enough of being cold and wanted us to join him in the warm room.

Obviously he has done this multiple times when temperature hasn’t been an issue. But I shall just pretend that he was being clever on this occasion, and that he loves me so much that he wanted me to be warm with him.

Here he is, rescuing me from the demon cold. The fact that he then benefits from a warm lap in his favourite room is purely coincidental.

“Follow moi to the warmth, Maman!”

Ils sont là!

~ iamthesunking ~ 23 Comments

Cat Daddy and I are feeling very smug indeed at the way in which we have used almost every last scrap of turkey. We have had turkey pie and turkey curry, and I am about to make and freeze a large batch of turkey and garlic soup, ready for when I return to my plague pit of a school in January. The only part of the turkey that we didn’t use was the giblets. Cat Daddy spent some time painstakingly boiling and chopping them for Louis Catorze, who took one sniff and walked away.

Cat Daddy: “Oh, he’ll eat it eventually.”

He absolutely will not. In fact, that’s the last thing he will do. And you ought to know this.

Ever since The Curious Incident of the Jet-Black Mouse in the Night-Time, I have been trying to figure out what on earth it was that Catorze brought in.

Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: nothing says “The magic of the Yuletide season” quite like being TUC and Googling “black mice”, “black rats”, “black shrews” and every other black rodent and rodent-like creature known to science.

Catorze’s offering was too velvety to have been a regular mouse, too bald-tailed to have been a rat, and it didn’t have the creepy pink hands* of a mole. What WAS it? And why didn’t I think to take a picture? (Well, ok, I know why. I was a few shots of vodka under, that’s why.) After a group of so-called friends – you know who you are – scared me with stories of roof rats, I am now hoping beyond hope that there isn’t a family of these critters living in or under Le Château somewhere, and that Catorze won’t unveil them one by one at some highly inopportune time.

*If you can stand it, Google pictures of moles and look at their disproportionately huge, terrifying hands. And, if you are especially brave, Google “star-nosed mole”. This creature will blow your mind, and is the sort of thing that would keep Lovecraft awake at night.

In either horribly coincidental (I hope so) or related (PLEASE NO) news, some sort of entity, most likely a squirrel but possibly a demon, has been scratching and scrabbling outside our bedroom window in the early hours of the morning. The sound itself isn’t enough to unduly disturb my sleep at night. However, Catorze’s response to the sound most certainly is.

As you are aware, the little sod is manic anyway, and he’s just had his steroid shot which has made him even worse. But this sound triggers his Urge To Kill switch like nothing else and, after bouncing around on the bed at length, he eventually settles in his classic Rodent Duty pose, on top of my chest. I have to make sure that the shutters are very firmly closed at night because, if they’re not, he tries to pry them open to create a platform on which to jump, causing even more of a disturbance.

I had hoped that spending the festive season relaxing quietly at home would be … well … relaxing and quiet. I should have known better.

Hallowe’en spooks outside my window … and one in my house.

Roi pour toujours, éternellement

~ iamthesunking ~ 29 Comments

“It’s Christmas time. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Clearly Bob Geldof and Midge Ure had never met Louis Catorze; the last few days have been awful because of my flu, and the little sod has been nothing short of merciless in his demands for play. If I ignore him, he either chases his tail or attacks my blister packs of painkillers.

He is especially bad when Cat Daddy is out, snarling at his manly pink butterfly on a string the way vampires snarl when shown a crucifix. Then, when Cat Daddy comes home, he is either sound asleep or sitting in perfect porcelain cat pose, tail tucked around his neat paws, all cutesy-eyed and innocent.

He shouldn’t even be out at the moment. Black cats are for Hallowe’en and not for Christmas, right? Well, so I thought, too, until Cat Daddy and I went for our annual festive meal at our local pub (before I fell ill), and two of these were on our table:

I now realise that this was a warning.

The landlord and landlady are cat people, and they know that we are, too, so they had done this just for us. At the end of our meal, our server asked us whether the management had supplied the cats or whether they were ours. Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: she thought we looked like the kind of people who would bring our own black cat decorations to a festive meal. (And, to be honest, the only reason I haven’t so far is because I didn’t think of it.)

Then Cat Daddy bought me this:

I will be wearing this today.

So, even at this time of year which is supposed be all Joy to the World and Peace on Earth, it’s all about Le Chat Noir. And not only do I suspect that that is exactly how Catorze planned it, but I’d go as far as to say it’s probably Phase 3 of the Chat Noir Plan for World Domination. Phases 1 and 2 are, of course, infiltrating our houses (CHECK) and mind-controlling us to do all manner of things for them (HELL, CHECK).

If Noël is your thing, I hope it’s a Joyeux one. We wish you and your furry psychopaths a wonderful day.

Happily making a nest on the present bag given to us by the Dog Family.

Que Dieu vous garde en joie, Messieurs

~ iamthesunking ~ 23 Comments

Merde, merde and thrice merde: I have the flu. And I don’t mean a bad cold which I’m calling “the flu” just to feel sorry for myself. I mean proper, checked-the-symptoms, can’t-sit-upright flu. I even had to cancel a pre-booked and much-needed physio appointment, although I sounded so pathetic on the phone that they took pity on me and only charged me half the cancellation fee.

Mum, if you’re reading this, no, I hadn’t got around to organising my flu vaccine. And, yes, I have learned my lesson.

Just to make things extra merdique, my flu started on the day of the winter solstice. So my party plans fell by the wayside somewhat and, instead, I spent the day TUC in the living room and drinking tea.

Louis Catorze has not left my side since I fell ill. However, he has somehow learned to emotionally blackmail me into giving him play upon demand, and he is making the most of my illness to wear me down and get what he wants.

I only found this out through a process of elimination, when I offered all the other things in response to his creepy stare – food, water, a different room, The Front, the moon on a stick, whatever – and the little sod didn’t budge, remaining statue-still and glassy-eyed throughout. I then reached for his manly pink butterfly on a string, not quite knowing what else to do, and he lost his shit, leaping a good metre in the air, baring his fangs and snarling at the toy.

Wait for it …
“Rawrrr!”
“RAWRRR!”

We play like this for about twenty minutes every day and, at the end of each session, I am more worn out than he is. And he knows full well that I will always give in, not only because the creepy staring makes me feel so uncomfortable, but also because – and this is where the blackmail part comes in – if I ignore him, he starts to play with his tail.

If you weren’t a follower of Le Blog six years ago and you have time on your hands, have a look through the archives from around November 2016 onwards, to find out why this is such bad news. Be warned, it’s not pretty reading. We want to draw attention away from Catorze’s tail at all costs.

It looks as if Catorze will have a very merry Yuletide season indeed. However, I don’t suppose we will have a single silent night.

“Papa! Play with moi.”

Toute cette immensité baignée de lumière

~ iamthesunking ~ 35 Comments

I love the winter solstice. Not quite as much as I love Hallowe’en, but I’m all for an occasion which is about a turning of tides. A Ctrl-Alt-Delete of the mind and soul, if you will.

Garden baubles which, astonishingly, will be left untouched by Catorzian paws.

At this time of year, I often say that I’m very lucky to have everything that I want. And this is still true. Our only real worry in life (Cat Daddy: “And our only real expenditure …”) is Louis Catorze.

As Catorze grows older, I mentally prepare myself for the fact that time will soon start chipping away at his [insert appropriate number; we’re pretty sure he has more than nine] lives, eventually whittling them down to nothing. But the little sod is showing no signs of this. He’s still as rambunctious as a kitten who has just hoovered down a cocktail of catnip and amphetamines; in fact, it’s almost as if the normal conventions of time simply don’t apply to him.

I took this picture of Catorze a couple of weeks ago, in the run-up to the full moon (during which he was more, erm, exuberant than ever before):

“Everything the light touches – including The Front where I’m not allowed – belongs to MOI.”

He looks serene and pensive but, in actual fact, he is just taking a break from an especially manic race around the house, all fangs, skidding feet and saucer eyes. Cat Daddy even had to have a serious word with him about his behaviour – and, no, it didn’t make any difference. A couple of days ago, Catorze brought us a jet-black mouse.

(No, we had no idea, either, that you could get jet-black mice. And, no, we didn’t realise that Catorze still hunted. We were hoping he’d decided to retire.)

He may be an old boy, but he is still the one true Sun King.

Joyeux Solstice à vous tous.