Point de paix pour les méchants

I have now been back at work for just over two weeks, and it has been quite refreshing to be able to teach Year 11 in peace without any interruptions from Louis Catorze.

Meanwhile, the little sod has turned his attention to Cat Daddy and has been driving him absolutely spare by following him around, clambering all over him, screaming and so on. I receive numerous messages of complaint from him (Cat Daddy, I mean, not Catorze) during my school day, accompanied by photos of the undesirable behaviours in question and, whilst I laugh and tell my colleagues sympathise, there’s not much I can do.

On one occasion Cat Daddy kicked Catorze out at The Front, just so that he could eat his breakfast in peace. But when he let him back in again, the pestering resumed.

Cat Daddy does have occasional respite as he works a couple of mornings a week as a volunteer delivery driver for the local food bank. (Yes, Catorze’s behaviour is such that Cat Daddy regards several hours of sitting in Hounslow traffic as “respite”.) And, at the end of his shift, he just wants to be able to come home and have some peace. However, Sa Majesté says “Non”.

More recently, Catorze decided to add bathroom interruptions to his repertoire. Whilst this is common in cats, it never used to happen with Catorze unless the bathroom had just been cleaned, in which case he did it in order to get high on the bleach. Yet, for whatever reason, he has decided to start doing it now.

Here he is, pictured at the start of the most recent senseless ambush. I don’t imagine we will ever find out the reason why.

Oh, for crying out loud: WHAT NOW?

Qui a chats n’a point de paix

The three of us managed to survive the hottest day since time began. However, it was the following night that posed more of a problem, and now I have a new “worst night’s sleep of my life”.

I changed bedrooms three times – with Louis Catorze in tow each time – in an effort to cool down. And, when each attempt yielded no satisfactory results, I ended up sleeping in the kitchen with the back door open, just as I did that time when Catorze wore his cone and couldn’t get through the cat flap to use les toilettes.

Then, when the storm came at around 2:30am, the little sod whooped with joy and pitter-pattered out to seek the highest point – our shed with the sedum roof – and to scream at the clouds.

Anyway, on a more positive and less weird note, Cat Daddy’s last few days at work are almost here and I am trying to persuade him to write a guest blog entry in the future about what it’s like to be permanently at home with Catorze. Sadly he’s not keen on the idea.

(I actually meant not keen on the idea of writing a guest blog entry, but it turns out that he’s also not keen on the idea of being permanently at home with Catorze. Just the other day I overheard an exchange of meows and “Shut up!”s from the next room, followed by, “Do you hear this? This is a sign of my life to come!”)

Cat Daddy does, of course, have plans for his retirement, and I don’t suppose being followed around Le Château by a vampire-toothed, screaming, psycho animal is one of them. But writing is incredibly therapeutic and stress-relieving, even if the subject matter is the cause of your stress. And Cat Daddy is forever complaining that I portray him as far meaner than he really is (“You make me out to be a complete ****” is his usual refrain) so this would be a perfect way to ensure accurate representation.

Qu’en pensez-vous, Mesdames et Messieurs: a new incarnation for Cat Daddy as a guest blogger? If enough of us bully and pressure him show some support and enthusiasm, perhaps he will change his mind …

Photo taken during one of their many alfresco Boys’ Club sessions:

Le cadeau de bonne chance

I started a new job on Wednesday. It’s a job that I have wanted ever since I set eyes on the ad, and I poured every fibre of my being into both my application and the interview to make sure they were as good as they could possibly be.

Cat Daddy knew that I would have a fitful night’s sleep on Tuesday due to nerves and excitement, so he showed his support by making me a relaxing cup of teapigs Snooze tea before bed and wishing me luck.

Louis Catorze gave zero shits about my sleep, so he showed his “support” by bringing a mouse to the bedroom and gadding about with it like an idiot at 3:45 in the morning.

I awoke to the sound of unspecified scrabbling around, and knew immediately that Catorze was up to no good. I switched the light on and saw, to my relief, that it was a mouse and not a rat, and that it was dead, so I got out of bed to fetch a piece of tissue in which to wrap it. However, because it was raining outside, and because the little sod and the mouse had been rolling their gross, drenched bodies around the room, the floor was wet … so over I went, landing in a mangled heap and jarring my ankle when it walloped the bedside table leg.

Of course, having hobbled to the bathroom for tissue, wrapped up the mouse, disposed of it and hobbled back to bed again, I was then wide awake, remaining that way until sunrise, and I went to my first day at my new job feeling utterly ravaged and angry with the world. Cat Daddy, on the other hand, slept through the entire thing, and went to work daisy-fresh.

On a completely unrelated matter, I know of a small, toothy, black cat up for adoption. Free to a good home – or even a below-average home, if anyone will have him.

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