French Words for Terrible Diseases We Get from Cats

Because I have a head cold right now and also live with six cats and my blameless wife (the fleas are all dead, though), I know it is a true, proven fact that cats are responsible for an infinite number of debilitating human illnesses, like my cold. For centuries, the French have studied the disorders proven to be transmitted to humans from cats (lǟ ƈђąϯz), and they even have a French word for those diseases: lě ƈђąϯ máláìȿě.

Ƈђąϯ máláìȿě (pronounced "chat mayonnaise") include the usual horrors with which we who are forced to live with cats are all familiar: dander allergies, rabies, vitamin deficiencies, pubic lice, viral memes, illiteracy, etc.

However, the French long ago discovered that the most devastating sicknesses with which cats infect innocent bystanding humans are psychiatric in nature—or, as the French would say, máládìě měnţálě lě ƈђąϯ. (I am not trying to show off my knowledge of French here. I only wish to point out that you don't know anything about French cat diseases, and I do.)

(By the way, the French have an alphabetical letter for "butt." The letter is Ѡ. The French call it "ðérrìèrě" but it is pronounced "butt" in English.)

These máládìě měnţálě le ƈђąϯ are pretty bad (ƒáᵫẍ máládě) and can make you super-crazy (pȿyçћöpáţћölögìě ȿánȿ ṿêţěměnţȿ). While I sit here coughing and blowing my nose and fighting off hordes of ##### ####ing cats that want to sit in my lap or climb on me with their claws or drape their tails over the computer monitor so I can’t see a single ##########ing thing I am typing, I will review the worst pandemics suffered by human civilization (the infamous máládìě ȿánȿ gráṿìţé) which infect us as a result of foolishly allowing so-called "domesticated" cats into our homes and bathrooms.

In French science, cat-to-human diseases are categorized (ȿymƀölěȿ pћönéţìqᵫěȿ) by their severity (påţћölœgìᴂ). The least dreadful and incapacitating ailments are those that humans find extremely irritating, only much more so—the ìrrìţé. The afflicted are barely capable of concentrating on the simplest tasks, so put upon are they by the demands of their feline "companions." In reality, the French learned that certain bacteria are emitted by cats that cause humans to feel, dare I say, obligated to serve and care for cats as if the latter were our alien overlords. The ìrrìţé class of contagions includes: çönƒᵫȿ, çönţrárìé, çћágrìn, döᵫlěᵫr, ìmpréçìȿ, ìnd샃érěnţ, lángöᵫrěᵫẍ, náïṿěţé, nöȿţálgìqᵫě, and the incurable petit pöpᵫláìrě. You will have to look up these tragic diseases on the Internet because their effects are so appalling that they cannot be discussed here. I think the one that starts with "L" has to do with sex.

The next worst classification of máládìě měnţálě le ƈђąϯ are those that produce severe emotional disorders of which the most learned psychiatrists speak only in whispers: the dìȿţráìţ. Once again the details of these savage maladies cannot be revealed here, especially as you might be eating dinner and read the wrong thing, then hurl like a giant Technicolor fire hose all over your dining room, your computer, your spouse, etc. This second group's list of terrors (the l'morte d'arthur) contains the grave afflictions of dépěrȿönnálìȿěr, ěẍìȿţěnţìěllě, ìnádápţé, incðmmœdễ, mélçönţěnţ, and méȿçréánţ. The prisons in Paris and other French cities I can't recall or pronounce are filled with people who were once as normal as you or me, or me at least, but they caught dìȿţráìţ and ate all the dirty kitty litter in their houses. Oh, I wasn't supposed to mention that. My bad. Anyway, you will agree that this is awful.

Now we come to the bottom of Hades: the málћěᵫrěᵫẍ, those incurable nightmares that mentally cripple 50% or probably more of all cat owners. Woe unto any who undergoes the torments of çréţìn, çrìmìněllě, délìnqᵫánţ, ìllégìţìmě, ìmƀéçìlě, ìmpöţěnţě, or (God save us) ìnȿöᵫçìěᵫẍ. Those incapacitated by málћěᵫrěᵫẍ are compelled to own really ugly cats like Persians, that look like they ran face-first into a wall at 50 miles per hour, or those hideous hairless Sphynxoid things that should be used to bomb North Korea. Also, these cat owners eat the dirty kitty litter in other people's houses, not just their own. Darn! Too much information, dreadfully sorry.

There is controversy over whether the ghastly préţěnţìěᵫẍ is a member of the málћěᵫrěᵫẍ group or inhabits its own revolting file cabinet of evil—the sub-basement of the bottom of Hades, as it were—as the worst of all máládìě ȿánȿ gráṿìţé. Préţěnţìěᵫẍ is known to afflict people who have just enough money to make them stupid. As a consequence they collect wines with little animals on the labels and talk about art as if they really knew anything about it, which I know they don't even if they claim to have art degrees, but they are lying. The accursed préţěnţìěᵫẍ makes those wretched unfortunates desire to own expensive and unmanageable felines with unpleasant habits like eating children, firemen, nuns, etc. The "cats" most preferred here are rare-in-the-extreme highly unique artificially gene-sequenced biologically unsound designer monstrosities such as those produced by mating Maine Coons with sabretooth tigers.

Préţěnţìěᵫẍ sufferers are the worst of all, the very worst, because nothing bad ever happens to them. Their gorgeous elephant-sized sabretoothed Maine Coons never eat them, much less bite or nip them. Préţěnţìěᵫẍ sufferers stay rich and beautiful and they just royally piss me off by continuing to talk about art when they don't know one ####### ####-### ##########ing thing about it. They appear on reality TV shows that would make Quasimodo vomit but only make the cat owners richer and more famous and more obnoxious with their opinions on postmodern neo-expressionism, of which there is no such thing because they just made it up, and given half a chance I would run over all of them with an Abrams tank except that their giant Maine Coons would eat me and my tank before I even got to the driveway, and that would just incredibly piss me off.

I hope this post has been beneficial to you. I, on the other hand, still have a cold. And the cats are still climbing on me.