thebigbuddy

Buddy’s Mailbag: How Do I Open Doors?

Thousands of years ago an evil human was looking for a way to annoy cats and invented the first door.

Dear Buddy,

What is the sick human fascination with doors? Who invented these vile things?

Better yet, how do I get them to open?

I hate doors!

– Hater in Honolulu

Dear H in H,

Welcome to the club, hermano!

No one really knows for sure where doors came from. Our best scientists have a working theory that humans invented doors thousands of years ago as a way to torture us cats.

It worked.

Not much foils us, mind, but doors are a uniquely anti-feline feature of human homes, and we all loathe them. But take heart! They can be defeated.

The Handle Twist — Doors with handles are the easiest to open!

If the doors in your home have handles instead of knobs, and they’re low enough that you can reach them without jumping, then what are you writing to me for? Go open them!

However, if your humans were evil enough to buy doors with knobs, or if reaching the handles requires you to jump, you’re going to need a little more finesse, my friend.

I call it the jump-and-twist. You’re going to need to leap up toward the knob while at the same time twisting your body in mid-air — a trivial move if you’re muscular like I am — so that your back feet catch the door frame. Then use the leverage from your back paws to push while keeping your front paws on the knob. Make sure you turn it!

cat-door — A kitty successfully completes the jump-and-twist and even manages to avoid the water trap his evil humans have laid for him. Kitty 2, Humans 0.

Finally, if you’re not athletic or the door is too difficult to open (or if you’re just lazy), you can employ what I like to call The Buddy Special.

The Buddy Special is very easy: Simply stand next to the door and cry, making your meows more pitiful-sounding by the second. Be sure to hit the sweet spot frequency that mimics a human baby’s cries: Humans are compelled to get up and investigate when they hear that sound!

Good luck and stay Buddy, my friends!

– Buddy the Wise

Under the door — Not proper technique: Going under the door is a good way to get stuck! However, a single paw under the door is a good way to remind human that you are watching them poop.

Reminder: I’m Still Devastatingly Handsome

Photos of Buddy provide a visual feast for his thousands of admirers.

bud_close_face — You smell that? It isn’t Curve or Drakkhar Noir, it’s Essence of Buddy. Notes of blackberry, grape and autumn in New York.

bud_inside — My coat is luxurious but needs a brushing. My servant is derelict in his responsibilities.

bud_lookingup — I ponder my handsomeness as I look yonder.

Buddy: Whatcha Lookin' At? — Whatcha lookin’ at, eh? Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!

Buddy’s Mailbag: Oh Sh#t!!!

For the first time ever, Buddy is at a loss for words.

Little Runt Who Talk Too Much,

Me hear fat little tabby cat claiming he is strongest cat in world. Me crush fat little tabby cat! He is perfect size for breakfast sandwich! I put him between slices of bread and mayonnaise. Muahaha!

Name place and time, we see who is strongest cat. Hint: It is me.

– Murderclaw the Disemboweler

Buddy’s Mailbag: What Do You Think About Cloning Cats?

Could there ever be more than one Buddy? What an absurd question.

Dear Buddy,

I came across this article about a cloned kitten who looks a lot like you did as a baby, although not as devastatingly handsome.

What do you think about cloning? Do you want to be cloned?

– Wondering in West Virginia

Cloned Cat Cinnabun — Cinnabun 2.0, who is not as handsome as Buddy.

Dear Wondering,

You’re right, that kitten isn’t nearly as good-looking as I am.

What do I think about cloning? Well, the article says these people in North Carolina paid $25,000 to clone their cat, Cinnabun.

Twenty-five grand is a hefty price tag to clone a cat with such a stupid name. Do you know how much turkey that could buy? Well I don’t either, but I know it’s a lot!

Twenty-five thousand big ones could buy me a huge cat condo, one of those fancy window hammocks, a lifetime’s supply of Meowie Wowie and Purple Passion Meowijuana, plus all the toys I want!

But I don’t need that stuff. Although he has many faults, Big Buddy does a fine job of anticipating my desires and always serves my meals precisely on schedule. My bowl runneth over with turkey and salmon. The guys at the shelter, though, they could use it!

Speaking of shelters, you know who’s not getting a real home because these people decided to “create” Cinnabun 2.0? Some poor shelter cat who’s been in a cage for two years. (To their credit, the Bullerdick family, Cinnabun 2.0’s servants, say they donate to the Humane Society.)

Shelter Kitty — “Excuse me! Hey! I could use a home too, you know.”

The people who had Cinnabun cloned say they were inspired by Barbra Streisand, who cloned her dog for $50,000. What do you have against shelter pets, Barbra Streisand? Hmmm?

And no, I don’t want to be cloned! There’s only one Little Buddy! If Big Buddy clones me, I’ll come back to bite him and poop in his shoes!

– Buddy

My Servant Has Returned!

Buddy’s servant has returned to do his bidding!

Buddy gave me the cold shoulder after I returned from Japan and it lasted all of 30 seconds before he couldn’t contain himself and began rubbing up against me to mark me with his scent.

Cats have scent glands all over their body, including their cheeks and foreheads, and scent is one way they establish familiarity and “ownership.” They’re comforted by the presence of their own pheromones, which is why products like Feliway — an artificial cat pheromone in a spray bottle — can help anxious cats chill out.

When a cat rubs up against a human or another cat, they’re essentially saying “These are my people!”

Or in Buddyspeak: “This guy is my servant! My servant has returned!”

Upon my return from an extended absence Buddy will not let me out of sight and will cry loudly and incessantly if I so much as use the bathroom without allowing him in, as is tradition. And this time around he puked when I returned, as is tradition.

I suspect it’s his way of processing relief, similar to the way some animals shake when overcome with anxiety or emotion. I try to remind myself that if it feels like I’ve been away a long time, for Buddy it must feel like a much longer time has elapsed — and there’s no way I can communicate to him that I’ll be back soon, so there’s an additional element of anxiety-provoking uncertainty.

Regardless, the king is happy again. Long live the king! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plate of turkey pate to serve…