Meet Buddy: Not for people who enjoy peace, caretakers with autoimmune diseases, or anyone who dislikes being smacked in the face.
What this 10-pound grey tabby lacks in size, he makes up for in unmitigated douchebaggery.
LIKES: Turkey, mind-controlling you with toxoplasma gondii, never shutting up, destroying expensive personal belongings (particularly musical instruments), dipping his tail in your beverage just to piss you off. He occasionally enjoys rending human flesh with his claws as well.
DISLIKES: People who don’t give him treats. People who don’t treat him like the center of the universe. Vacuums, tardy service, acts of kindness, substandard service, mirrors, birds, dogs.
Come and meet Buddy, who is free to the first person who’ll claim him! In fact, we’ll play you, and he comes with a litter box, food/water bowls, toys, a harness, treats, scratching posts and heavy duty gloves.
Okay, so clearly I’m not giving Buddy away or taking applications for him. Anyone who wants Buddy will have to pry him from my cold, dead hands. He’s my Buddy.
But this adoption ad from an animal shelter in North Carolina got me thinking about how cats are described to prospective adopters:
Adoption ads for house cats are perfunctory affairs peppered with the same handful of descriptors: Every cat is a sweet, loving cuddle bug looking for a “furrever” home.
If you knew nothing about cats and based your opinion on adoption ads only, you’d think they’re basically cuddly pillows with no variation in personality or disposition.
The person who crafted Perdita’s adoption ad managed to cut through the noise with a funny, brutally honest description of the cat and her many quirks.
World’s worst cat? Even the veterinarian thinks she’s a major jerk? I have to know more.
The ad worked. Not only did it go viral, amassing thousands of shares, upvotes and comments on social media, it’s been talked about on TV and written about in major publications.
Most importantly for little Perdita, the clever ad also prompted more than 50 enthusiastic applicants, and the shelter says it’s “carefully considering” the would-be servants, no doubt trying to find the perfect match for the “World’s Worst Cat.”
At a time when thousands of charitable organizations are competing for donations and deserving pets languish in shelters, Perdita’s story proves rescues can cut through the noise and find homes for even the grumpiest of cats.