Short Story: The Wrath Of The Cat!

Humans have insulted felinekind for the last time!

Little Buddy was determined to win the prize.

A lavish spread of his most favoritest snacks — including a mouth-watering variety of crunchies, Gouda and American cheese, turkey meaty sticks and more — would be his if he could rush to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, remove a cold beer, and somehow get it back to his human before the end of the half-inning commercial break during a Yankees broadcast.

“Sixty seconds left!” Big Buddy called from the living room.

Little Buddy panicked. He was still working out how to reliably open the refrigerator door and was worried about whether he’d be able to carry the bottle by gripping the slender part with his teeth, or would be forced to roll it.

With a back paw resting against the adjacent cabinet, Buddy wedged his body against the refrigerator door and, with a bit of wiggling, finally pried it open. Yes!

There it was: the cold beer.

“Thirty seconds!” Big Buddy called.

Oh crap! The feline tried to grab the top of the bottle with his teeth, but it was slippery with condensation and cold.

I’ll have to roll it, then, he conceded.

Working quickly, he had the bottle safely on the floor in a few seconds and began rolling, nudging the icy brew with his nose and correcting its direction with his paws. Think of the snacks, he told himself.

He was out of the kitchen and heading toward the living room, beer rolling along, when Yankees announcer Michael Kay’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“And we’re back here in the bottom of the sixth, Yankees up two runs over the Red Sox,” he said.

“Time!” Big Buddy said, then got up and walked over to where his feline pal was sitting dejected with his shoulders slumped.

The human picked up the beer and cracked it open.

“So close,” he said, shaking his head. “What a shame.”

Little Buddy stared at the floor sadly as Big Buddy walked into the kitchen. Then he heard the unmistakable crinkle of a plastic bag. It was music to his ears, a balm for his soul, relief for his rumbling stomach.

I knew Big Buddy wouldn’t do this to me! he thought. He’s gonna give me that snack spread anyway!

The excited feline came skidding to a halt just inside the kitchen doorway and looked up to find his human digging a few mochi nuggets out of a Trader Joe’s bag. His tail, which had been quivering with excitement a second ago, sank like an inflatable air dancer suddenly deprived of wind.

“Mmmm,” the human said. “These are delicious. Don’t you just love snacks?”

He walked back into the living room and collapsed in his chair, leaving Little Buddy staring longingly up at the inaccessible Cabinet of Yums.

The hollow pop of a fastball discharging its kinetic energy off a wooden bat and the roar of the crowd sounded through the speakers in the next room, sending minute rumbles through the floor that tickled Buddy’s paw pads.

The gods of yums are pooping on me from great heights, he thought. What have I done to deserve this cruel fate?

“He’s training you!”

Little Buddy spun around. Who was meowing to him?

“Up here, dummy!” the voice meowed, and Little Buddy looked up to find a cat the color of a tangerine sitting on the outside window ledge and licking one paw.

“What do you mean by ‘he’s training me?'” Buddy asked the mysterious interloper.

The other feline continued raking his tongue along his paw at an insouciant pace, then finally stopped and looked down.

“He’s conditioning you to retrieve bottles of beer,” the interloper said with certainty. “The promise of a reward lit a fire under your behind, so you didn’t even question the ridiculous ‘challenge.’ And that, my boy, is how humans train lesser creatures like dogs. It is beneath us felines and an insult to our dignity!”

Buddy let the new information sink in.

“That bastard!” he meowed.

“Yes!” the tangerine cat replied.

“He’s treating me like a mutt? A dirty dog?”

“An abominable way to treat a friend, and if I may say so, an insult to your stature!”

Buddy seethed. “I’m supposed to be his best pal! His little buddy!”

“Some might call it a stunning display of absolute contempt for your feelings and your stomach,” the other feline nodded. “Criminal, really.”

“I’m gonna kill him!” Buddy meowed angrily.

The orange cat held up both paws.

“Hold off on that for a minute, will you, pal? If you go scorched Earth right away, you’ll have nothing for when this inevitably escalates.”

Buddy nodded reluctantly. “What did you have in mind?”

Tangerine smiled mischievously.

“My friend,” he trilled, “do you know what a toothbrush is?”

Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. At no time has Bud ever been denied a snack, nor has he ever missed a meal.

Meals missed: 0. Snacks deprived of: 0. Snacks consumed: 10,967. Vet assessment: Slightly chubby. Self assessment: Extremely meowscular, meowscle definition hidden by silky soft coat.

23 thoughts on “Short Story: The Wrath Of The Cat!”

    1. Probably my fault for trying and failing to be subtle.

      Imagine what sort of unsavory things a person, or in this case a person-cat, could do with access to your toothbrush and motivation to get back at you.

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  5. Loved the story and totally agree with Little Buddy’s self-assessment! Meowscular indeed. He’s a wonderful kitty. Just look at all the stories and comments he’s inspired. 😻💝

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    1. I’m very lucky to have him and now that he’s older I try to remind myself of that as much as possible.

      Plus, as we all know well, cats are unintentionally amusing and their antics never get old.

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    1. Natural light really brings out the color. I’ve been meaning to bring him to a friend’s house with a completely enclosed back yard so he can run around, chase bugs, get fresh air and all that. Should be good for photos too.

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  7. Ah, the toothbrush is a classic form of revenge.

    *But we all know that Buddy has NEVER been denied snacks nor food of any kind. He is much loved, as evidenced by his smooth silky coat and well nourished body. Buddy indeed has the life other cats dream of. *

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  9. The art style is really great, little Buddy looks so cute in both the artwork and the photos.

    It’s a little late, but Happy Father’s Day to all you pet dads.

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    1. The comic book style art is AI-generated in a style similar to comic book artists from the 90s. I have mixed feelings about using AI and I would like to using it sparingly.

      The photos, however, are just Bud being Bud!

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      1. I see. I understand about the mixed feelings. To be honest, I’m not really sure what to think about it. I don’t think I know enough to have an opinion on that, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to use AI in moderation, the way you do. Plus, Bud’s photos are charming and a pleasure to look at.

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  10. We’re suffering a monstrous heatwave right now, so I’m grateful to you for lightening my mood with this wonderfully whimsical offering. Your rendition of the tangerine terror is spookily like Caramel; their cool, calculating approach to human-mind is also strikingly similar. I must remember never to let Caramel get anywhere near my toothbrush!

    Those photos of Little Buddy, and in particular the way he sits innocently on a chair while plotting how best to get you to do whatever ne needs doing, are absolutely adorable.

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    1. You know it’s serious when they’re closing schools, partially shutting down rail transportation and telling people to stay indoors. AC isn’t too common there, is it? I wish you the best of luck, as I know the UK and its buildings aren’t really designed for this kind of weather.

      Thanks for the kind words. The photo of Bud looking out of the sliding glass door is one of my favorites.

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      1. AC has become more common in larger shops and offices, but is rare in domestic homes. I don’t know anyone who has his/her own personal AC system. When things get tough we open the window, switch on a simple fan and reach for a cold beer.

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