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Me: “Louis’s booster vaccinations are due at the end of the month, but he’s likely to need a steroid shot then, too …”
Cat Daddy: “…”
Me: “And you’re not supposed to have both at the same time …”
Him: “…”
Me: “So I thought I’d book him in early for his boosters. What do you think?”
Him, without looking up from his phone: “It’s just one expense after another with him, isn’t it?”
Me: “…”
Him: “Do you realise that, every month, his medical bills cost us the equivalent of a meal out at the pub?”
Me: “…”
Him: “There comes a time when you’ve got to ask yourself if it’s all worth it.”
Me: “…”
Him: “…”
Yes, Louis Catorze is our greatest expenditure. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
The little sod is something of a record-breaker: he has the dubious honour of being the most expensive cat ever to set paw in his rescue. During his fifteen months on their books, he managed to rack up medical treatment after medical treatment totalling the Sun-Kingly sum of £12,000. Yes, TWELVE THOUSAND POUNDS.
(They did tell us this before we brought him home, but they waited until we’d signed his release papers first.)
Luckily he hasn’t cost us that much so far, although our total to date can’t be far off (we’re too scared to check). And, when it comes to Catorzian expenditure, we don’t even stop to question it. We debate for ages regarding whether we can really afford the lovely, pure Icelandic vodka rather than Smirnoff. But, should Catorze want organic aged Comté* from the cheese deli in W13 rather than supermarket Comté, pas de problème.
*This isn’t a joke: Catorze won’t eat budget cheese. He also refuses jambon de campagne and jamón Serrano, but happily accepts the far more expensive jambon de Bayonne and jamón Ibérico, merci/gracias.
He is the gift that keeps on taking. Life with him is like walking around with a permanent hole in your purse, knowing that everything is falling through the hole yet doing nothing about it. But we wouldn’t want it any other way.
Cat Daddy: “What do you mean? Of course we ****ing would.”
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