Happy Easter to those who celebrate, and happy spring to those who don’t.
As is tradition, Buddy transforms into the Easter Buddy for 24 hours, complaining loudly and often about his rabbit ears and remarking that he never realized how much carrots taste like delicious turkey.
Buddy has been studiously preparing for Easter. Here he is at noon on Saturday:
At 2 pm:
At 4 pm:
At 5 pm:
At 6:30 pm:
All in preparation for his ears to sprout.
Happy Easter!
* The last photo may or may not actually depict a tribble or a hedgehog.
“I say, dear fellow, would you have any Grey Poupon? This roast is rather dry, and the zookeepers do not take me seriously when I tell them human will be on the menu if they don’t shape up!”
This photo of a chatty lion was taken at Lo Zoo di Napoli (Naples Zoo) in Italy by BoBB, aka Brother of Big Buddy:
For a brief moment, since it is April 1, I considered writing a post about how the Somalian pirates who briefly “bought” Buddy a few years ago returned with an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I sent the little dude packing for the pirate life once again.
But then I remembered the emails I got, including one from a woman who said she was heartbroken by my betrayal of the Budster.
So no April Fools’ Day, because as fun as it is to imagine Bud joining a pirate crew, I can’t have some people thinking I’d abandon him. He’s here to stay!
“Hold my beer,” Buddy said after watching a video of another feline sending a pair of bears running with an awesome display of fiery intimidation.
NEW YORK — The bear picked the wrong home and the wrong cat to mess with.
Buddy the Cat was taking his traditional 3 pm nap after third lunch when he was rudely disturbed by a ruckus outside.
“Stay here, I will check it out,” he told his human, then hopped down from the couch as his powerful stride took him toward the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony.
A huge form was huddled just outside the glass, and when the lumbering beast turned, Buddy took a sharp breath. It was a bear, a particularly impressive specimen.
Lesser felines would have been terrified, but Buddy stood calmly before the bear and addressed it.
“Inferior animal,” the fearless feline announced. “Yes, you! You are trespassing on Buddesian territory. I order you to cease any and all ursine activity and return forthwith to your place of origin or the nearest convenient parallel dimension!”
“What are you doing?!” a terrified Big Buddy whispered.
Buddy turned toward his human. “It’s from Ghostbusters. Calm down, I know what I’m doing.”
The bear yawned and let out a deep, rumbling moan.
The bear flinches as Buddy unleashes a terrifying roar!
“I can see I’m not dealing with the sharpest claw on the paw,” Buddy said. “Okay, bear, do you understand this?”
Buddy eased back on his haunches and raised two powerful forelimbs, his considerable meowscles rippling meowscularly beneath the luxurious sheen of his silver fur.
The bear watched warily, then flinched instinctively as the intimidating feline launched a sequence of aggressive and powerful paw strikes. The ursine beast recoiled from the thunderous impacts of paws against glass, reconsidering its position in the face of such a formidable display of force.
The massive creature turned in retreat, casting one last fearful glance at the Herculean felid before beating a hasty retreat.
Once he was satisfied the bear was gone, Buddy turned and sauntered back toward the couch, lifting himself onto it in a single graceful leap.
“And that,” the handsome silver feline said, “is how you deal with a bear.”
“Scooter does not like bears,” the fearless feline’s human said.
Scooter is one brave little dude!
The tuxedo cat from Asheville, North Carolina, wasn’t even phased by a pair of young bears who unwisely entered Scooter’s territory. Sure, Scooter had the benefit of a glass door between him and the ursine invaders, but Buddy here would have bravely and valiantly defended his home run screaming and taken up a position behind my legs while moaning pathetically.
Plus, I mean, they’re bears. Young bears, yes, but Scooter and his human placed an awful lot of faith in the strength of that glass.
Will Jones, Scooter’s human servant, made the understatement of the year when he posted the video and said flatly “Scooter does not like bears.” Ya think?
Regardless, the little guy clearly had the big animals spooked. They flinched from his hiss-accompanied flurry of rapid paw jabs, then decided it wasn’t worth dealing with the furry lunatic behind the glass and promptly left Scooterland.
Maybe they should be grateful Scooter couldn’t break through the glass instead of the other way around.
Credited to an “activist investor,” one airline has redoubled efforts to squeeze money out of travelers — and people traveling with pets could be next.
Travelers are calling it a “fat tax.”
The anecdotes, which have been popping up all over social media platforms this week, are similar: flyers show up to the airport, a counter person looks them up and down, then declares the flyer will have to purchase a second seat or give up their spot on the plane.
That this is happening on Southwest Airlines, long praised as the most considerate toward “passengers of size,” is even more surprising. SF Gate attributes the dramatic shift in policy, which is apparently just one of many, to an “activist investor.”
It doesn’t say who that “activist investor” is, but it’s difficult to imagine a person wealthy enough to own a significant portion of an airline developing a personal vendetta after bad experiences in crowded coach. This is something different, driven by the desire to extract more money from travelers with rent-seeking behavior. That sort of thing, an “activist investor” certainly would do. Boosting profits without creating any value has become the calling card of America’s financial ruling class.
Which is why it’s likely this problem was created by the airlines in the first place, and why pet caretakers should be wary. (And no, not because felines like my Bud are a little too fond of the yums.)
Airlines are always looking for ways to add new seats, and every year brings new “innovations” to reclaim space centimeter by centimeter so the airlines can sell extra tickets.
Credit: Anthony Baratier/Wikimedia Commons
We’ve long since become cattle. I’m 5’10” and I’ve been on flights in which my knees barely fit between the seat in front of me and my own. I always wonder: what would I do if I were taller? How the heck does someone, say, 6’2″ sit in one of these seats?
The effort to squeeze more money from travelers isn’t limited to the new “fat tax” either. From “premium economy” upsells that don’t yield more space to ever-shrinking carry-on limits, airlines continue to find new routes into our wallets, making us pay more for the same product.
And that’s why those of us with pets should be worried. It’s a short leap from a “fat tax” to a “cat tax.”
“You’ll be in coach while I take my place in first class, human.”
Most airlines treat people traveling with pets as a nuisance to begin with, and if they haven’t already, Southwest’s “activist investor” is likely to find new ways to squeeze people traveling with cats and dogs. (In my head, I imagine this “activist investor” as a vaguely Stephen Milleresque figure, with twitchy eyes betraying the rage bubbling below a calm exterior. “Let them sit elbow to elbow as they cradle their animals,” he laughs from his first-class seat. “Muahahaha!”)
The fact that this “fat tax” is arbitrary should scare all of us. If the whim of a counter clerk is what determines whether someone has to buy an extra seat, then who’s to say the same clerks won’t look at a cat, declare “He looks like a pain in the ass,” and demand some additional, ludicrously-titled fee?
“That comes to an additional $276.13 with your companion animal convenience surcharge. Thank you for flying with us!”
It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?
Pain In The Bud 