Paint it Black! Louis Catorze’s Choice for Style and Stealth – Katzenworld

If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?

Naturellement, Louis Catorze would choose a fetching all-black ensemble.

Not only does black hide the dirt better than most other colours – sometimes it’s just better not to know what crud you’ve been thrashing around in – but it has the added bonus of concealing you when you’re on nefarious nocturnal missions. Sneaking off in the middle of the night to some place you have no business being, to do something you absolutely shouldn’t be doing, is so much more difficult if you’re bright orange or paper-white.

Furthermore, distinctive colours make it more difficult to pin your neighbourhood misdeeds upon others; “It must have been some other ginger cat with green eyes, white paws and a gigantic, fluffy tail” somehow isn’t as convincing as, “It must have been some other black cat”.

Black is also very versatile; you don’t have to change your outfit for Hallowe’en. And black matches everything. Here is Louis Catorze, provide this by accessorising with a bespoke cobweb fascinator in silver grey:

An outfit from the Louis Catorze Spring-Summer 2023 Collection.

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Cold Comfort – Katzenworld

How do you feel about cold weather?

So … cats and cold weather. The cold usually brings our heat-seeking, furry psychopaths to us for cuddles and, although we know that they are just using us for our body heat, this is rather nice. However, in Louis Catorze’s case, the added benefit of this is that I am able to see what he’s up to (in a “keep your enemies closer” kind of way, rather than in a protective, motherly way).

During the summer months, Catorze is out gallivanting and I barely see him. His travels take him into neighbouring gardens, the Zone Libre (the playing field of a school backing onto our house), and all manner of other places that I don’t know. Do I even want to know? I have considered a tracker for him, but I fear that, once I start following his whereabouts, I won’t be able to haul myself out of that rabbit hole. Some trackers even allow friends and family to check up on your cat, but the “It must have been some other black cat” excuse has served me well so far whenever there is trouble. The last thing I want is proof beyond all reasonable doubt.

The summer is lovely if you are one of those three or four people on the planet with a cat who behaves themselves. For the rest of us, autumn and winter can’t come quickly enough.

Photo taken when it was cold (obviously).

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“Look up at me and you will see a god.” – Katzenworld

Do you practise religion?

Well, now, let us count the ways:

1. A particular leader, in this case a fanged, furry psychopath to whom I shall refer as FFS, has absolute authority without accountability. (Yes, I know that “psychopath” starts with a P and not with an S, but it still has the S sound. And, somehow, I think FFS is a very appropriate acronym for my cat, Louis Catorze.)

2. FFS is right at all times.

3. FFS dictates all aspects of our life in great detail, including the parts when we are not here; if we absent ourselves, we have to ensure that another devotee is able to take over our duties.

4. FFS requires displays of behaviour which outsiders might find deviant. Does this include, erm, welcoming pilgrims from all around the world and making them sign a book? (I’m not joking. This actually happens.)

5. Devotees are monitored to ensure that we are following the rules. This monitoring includes screaming, creepy-staring and sleep deprivation, and sometimes we are forced to witness the ritual sacrifice of another living being as a polite reminder not to transgress.

6. Methods of control are used to ensure that devotees don’t go off-piste (see previous point).

7. A membership fee is required in order to remain in the good books of the FFS; in our case, this is free food, free board, free medical care, and a standing order into a savings account owned by the FFS.

8. Records exist which document the nefarious ways of the FFS, including his abuses of devotees. If you want to understand the extent of the full horror, look here.

If you thought you led a secular life but found yourself nodding along to much of the above, perhaps you, too, are under the spell of a FFS (or at least a FS)?

What do you mean, I’ve “just described a cult and not a religion”? That would suggest that cats are narcissistic, controlling individuals who exploit our weaknesses …

Oh. Never mind.

I’ll agree to whatever he wants.

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From a Cat’s View: “1 Star out of 5; Would not Recommend.” – Katzenworld

What is your favourite restaurant?

Sometimes I feel that cats see us as no more than glorified restaurants. Except that, if we humans treated restaurant staff the way cats treat us, we would be booted out and told never to come back.

Cats don’t tell us what it is that they want to eat. Or, rather, they communicate it via their Creepy Kitty Sixth Sense language, which they know we don’t understand. We then go through the rigmarole of trying food after food to see if something meets their exacting requirements, only to be repeatedly told to try harder.

Once we happen upon the magic formula which gains their approval, unfortunately that doesn’t mean we are safe. The cats may well comply for a short while, but this is all a huge façade; in reality, they are just waiting to drop the axe onto us when we least expect or want it. Usually this is when we have decided to invest in a bumper supply of said food on some non-refundable deal.

Everyone: “Oh, they’ll eat it when they’re hungry enough.” No, no, no. People who say this have clearly never met a cat. Cats will never do this. They would rather starve than eat substandard* food.

*Substandard, to them, is anything that they don’t fancy eating at that moment, even if they loved it yesterday.

Perhaps most restaurant servers would put up with the odd difficult customer if the price were right. However, cats don’t tip. In fact, they don’t even pay; to add insult to injury, not only do we put up with their outlandish demands but we pay handsomely for the privilege, too. Again, if our human friends did this to us, we would look for new friends. But, somehow, if a freeloading furry psychopath does it, we accept it. Are we humans just pathetic? Or is this the most extreme type of mind control there is?

Here is Louis Catorze, waiting patiently for service. In this case, what he wants is for us to fill his “empty” bowl, although I daren’t tell him it’s not empty; after all, the customer is always right.

“Quality of service? I’ve seen glacial valleys form with more speed.”

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My Devil had Been Long Caged, he Came out Roaring – Katzenworld

What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?

There’s only one place: the vet surgery. But, regretfully, it’s somewhere that Louis Catorze has to visit most months, whether he likes it or not.

It wasn’t always this way. Catorze used to happily guzzle Pill Pockets containing his steroid tablets, twice a day, at a total cost of £28 per month. But, since he inexplicably decided to stop eating Pill Pockets, as well as refusing all the other Trojan Horses containing hidden tablets, we now have to visit the vet for a steroid injection once a month, at a cost of £85 each time.

The worst part is having to transport the little sod there, because he screams and screams without even stopping to take a breath. In fact, the receptionist once told me that there was no need for me to ring the bell when I arrived there, because they could hear Catorze’s screams from the back of the building.

Cat Daddy came with me to the most recent vet appointment for Catorze’s steroid shot, and he told me afterwards how upsetting it was to see his poor boy so distressed. He was particularly sad at the thought of Catorze’s final trip to the vet – yes THAT one – being a huge trauma, and his time with us ending horribly. We had talked previously about perhaps asking the vet to come to us for That Final Visit and, at the time, Cat Daddy had hesitated due to the cost. We had also wondered whether Catorze would recognise the vet even out of context and be traumatised regardless but, when his last vet left the practice and we invited her over for a farewell cup of tea, she commented on how welcoming Catorze was whereas most of her furry patients, in the same situation, ran away.

When we returned home from the steroid appointment, Catorze forgave us immediately. There was none of the Post-Vet Sulk with which most cat owners are very familiar, nor did he throw up on our best shoes or pee on our bed or any such thing. He just sat with us in the garden, sunning himself in the warmest spot, then cuddled me in bed all night. Despite everything he still loves us, although I do wonder what he thinks the vet visit is all about. I highly doubt that he knows it’s to make him feel better, so perhaps he thinks I just lose the plot once every few weeks and my inner Ms Hyde feels the need to torture him cruelly.

Poor, sweet, trusting little sod. The absolute least we can do is make sure that That Final Visit isn’t awful for him, whatever the cost.

Having his usual almost-sunbathe.

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