Ever brave, the unshakeable feline survived an encounter with a dangerous Swiffer.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat poked his head around the side of the couch, cautiously investigating a pressured liquid sound he’d never heard before.
“And that’s when I saw it,” Buddy recalled. “This monstrous purple creature thing, and it was spitting liquid and making the floor all wet, smelly and disgusting. It was terrifying!”
Recoiling from the strong scent of citrus, that vile fruit, Buddy beat a hasty retreat, stopping every few feet to hiss at the floor-defiling automaton. The brave feline jumped and climbed to the safety of a high perch, where he was able to meow insistently at his inconsiderate human.
“Now’s an excellent time for a nap.”
When the Swiffing was complete, Big Buddy coaxed his furry friend down with the offer of a snack.
“Who’s a good, brave boy?” Big Buddy asked, shaking the bag.
“Well, I suppose I am pretty brave,” Buddy acknowledged.
After he finished his well-deserved snack, Buddy ran screaming into the bedroom and dived under the bed when he heard the rustle of a large paper bag.
There’s not a shred of evidence that shows arbitrarily gunning down cats has any positive impact on the environment, but that hasn’t stopped vigilantes from hunting them.
There’s this bizarre and infuriating idea among people who call themselves conservationists that they can save certain animals by running around and arbitrarily gunning down other animals.
These people will shoot certain species of birds to protect other bird species, extirpate ferrets, pine martens and various other mustelids, and have had a hard-on for cats ever since a series of shockingly dishonest pieces of propaganda masquerading as studies used fabulated data to paint felines as furry demon spawn who feast on birds by the billions in countries like the US, New Zealand and Australia.
They used to be quiet about it because they realized gunning down cats isn’t exactly good PR for their cause, but now they don’t even bother.
Like John McConnell, a 67-year-old New Zealander whose hobby is going out with a rifle to shoot cats at night because he thinks that’s an effective way to protect birds.
“I shoot them,” McConnell told The Guardian. “Seriously. If it’s a cat and I know whose it is, I’ll leave it. But if it’s a stray cat – it’s a goner. Even if it’s domestic and it’s out at night, I’m getting to the point where I’d shoot those as well, because they shouldn’t be out.”
Two things to note here:
McConnell is playing vigilante cat killer, having appointed himself arbiter of which animals get to live and which ones don’t, but he doesn’t understand that stray, feral and pet cats are all the same species. This is a man who thinks the difference between a domesticated and wild animal is whether it has a home.
The article contains no statistics and nothing in the way of numbers other than a wild estimate of New Zealand’s cat population, yet it’s filled with anecdotes: people who claim they see more birds after they’ve bagged a couple of cats, but can offer no evidence. That’s not an effective or smart way to make public policy.
Between the bogus studies and the lack of any data remotely suggesting that arbitrarily shooting domesticated animals has a measurable impact on bird populations, there is nothing to support this kind of ruthless nonsense. You’d think that, if an entire country is going to war with an animal species and has vowed to take potentially millions of lives, there would be something — anything — to back up the claim that inflicting all that misery and suffering on sentient creatures would accomplish a conservation goal.
Australia’s reward for culling cats: annual mouse plagues for the past three years since killing millions of cats with air-dropped sausages laced with a chemical that is poisonous only to felids.
Especially after their neighbors, the Australians, killed two million cats with poisoned sausages in a similarly misguided attempt at protecting wildlife and were rewarded for their efforts with three years (and counting) of biblical mouse plagues that destroyed thousands of homes, farms and businesses, and caused billions in damage. Mice, by the way, are a non-native species introduced by settlers from the UK.
Credit another blow to the environment from human behavior as people randomly shoot cats. I suppose blaming cats is easier than admitting we’ve behaved abominably and are the root cause of these problems.
But let’s stop for a moment and imagine if the situation were reversed. Imagine people who want to protect cats decided they’re going to start shooting dogs, foxes, coyotes, owls, eagles and other large birds of prey.
Suppose someone decided that John McConnell’s dog shouldn’t be out for walks and shot it in an act of conservationist vigilantism.
Would anyone tolerate that? Wouldn’t they be labeled lunatics and condemned? What makes the cat culling any different, aside from “justification” in the form of a handful of widely-condemned, heavily-criticized studies that violate just about every elementary rule of scientific research?
Here’s comedian Bill Burr’s take on the absurdity of human efforts to manage wildlife population by shooting animals. Burr, whose everyman facade and humor often mask salient points, also takes the rest of us to task by pointing out it’s humanity, not the behavior of animals, that has the biggest impact on the planet and its wildlife, yet no one’s suggesting we cull our own population.
“I think it’s weird that human beings are trying to control the populations of animals. You know? Like any time the deer population gets out of control, some dude will get on TV like [puts on a redneck accent] ‘Okay, the deer population is up to about 17, 1,800, realistically we need to get that number down to about five or six, alright? So starting tomorrow, if you got a gun, f—ing shoot them in the face!’ I’m just sitting at home like, ‘What are the deer doing that’s so bad for the environment?’ [Slips into a redneck accent again] ‘They eat all the f—in’ grass! They comin’ up to trees, just nibblin’! Just nibblin’!’ Dude, the deer didn’t put a hole in the ozone layer, alright? That’s not a bunch of dogs clogging up the freeway. It’s us, alright?”
Then he lays into people who breed like rabbits, and this is a personal pet peeve of mine whenever I hear someone like Alec Baldwin, a man who has eight children, four massive homes, a fleet of SUVs and an army of nannies, holding court on environmental responsibility and global warming. Baldwin has 12 to 16 people living under his roof at any time, with palatial homes that consume more energy each than entire European villages, yet that doesn’t stop him from adopting a patrician tone and lecturing the “peasants” (his word) on their environmental responsibilities.
A word of caution: while I think Burr is hilarious, this clip is also peppered with obscenities, as his most of his material. If that sort of thing bothers you, skip the clip. If not, well, he’s got a point:
The English language does not provide the means to properly state how much this cat loves corn. To quote Dave Chappelle: “Look at him, he loves it!”
This isn’t just a video of a cute cat eating corn.
It’s a video of a cute cat who gives a cry of joy when he sees his human plop corn a cob of corn onto his plate, then tears into it with such gusto that he half-purrs, half-growls as he devours his yums. Seriously, make sure you turn the volume on, it has to be heard to be believed:
The Corn Kid, famous for declaring “When I tried it with butter, everything changed…I can’t imagine a more beautiful thing!” might be given a run for his money by this cat.
And if you haven’t heard about the Corn Kid, well, make your day brighter by checking out this songified version by the same guys who created a ridiculously catchy pop song out of the Bed Invader news segment back in 2010:
In case you’re wondering, corn won’t kill your cat. In fact, as veterinarians point out, your cat probably eats corn regularly because pet food companies use the stuff as filler in cat food despite the fact that, as obligate carnivores, cats don’t really get any nutritional value by eating it. However, it’s not meat, so if your cat likes corn, you should give it to kitty only in moderation as too much can cause an upset stomach and digestive problems.
Former President Buddy wants your vote as he makes another bid for president of the Americats.
Now that Buddy’s officially announced his candidacy to regain his rightful post as President of the Americats, his campaign is in full swing and it’s all-in on classic Americata and Americat imagery.
Buddy, who was narrowly defeated by Purrsident Joe Bitin’ in 2020, then banned from the social media platform Meower after claiming Los Gatos criminal gang was at the forefront of a conspiracy to deny him a second term, criticized his opponent’s age, record and culinary preferences as he took questions from reporters.
Asked by a reporter for Cat Broadcasting Corporation (CBS) how he would approach a rematch with Bitin’, Buddy said he’d take a paws-off approach.
“I don’t need to defeat Joe Bitin’,” Buddy said. “Time is doing it for me. He eats senior kibble. He needs little stairs just to get into the litter box. He thinks it’s 1992. I mean, come on.”
That prompted a reaction from CNN’s (Cat News Network) Panderson Pooper, who pointed out there are health concerns about the former president himself. Photos printed by the New York Lunchtimes showed Buddy on a golf course, his stomach jiggling as he teed off on a par three at New York’s Westchester Country Club.
Asked about his weight, the former president became incensed.
“For the millionth time, I am NOT fat! That’s pure meowscle!” he insisted. “I just look a little floofy because I’ve got a longer coat on my underside, a-and, and a prominent primordial pouch, which I like to call a warrior’s pouch because it exists to protect the vitals of true warrior felines. Like me, of course.”
Buddy visited the Iowa State Fair over the weekend, where he mingled with Americats, helped judge a dance competition, and chowed down on cheesesteaks, fried Oreos, fried turkey legs, fried chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, chili, hot wings and ice cream. His campaign staff had to repeatedly redirect him away from food stalls and toward potential voters.
Buddy’s primary rival, Florida Gov. John DeSpamis, also worked the crowds at the Fair, but the two cats never came face to face.
Instead, Buddy turned to his own social media network to fire off messages critical of his rival, whom he calls Meatball John.
“Meatball is dead in the water, folks! Polling 40% behind me. Sad!” Buddy wrote. “If only he had stayed in his lane, I might have considered him for Secretary of Yums or put him in charge of toys. But that ship has sailed, so now Meatball will pad back down to Florida with his tail between his legs. Sad!”
Buddy’s nex scheduled campaign stop will take him to the New Hampshire State Fair, where his campaign staff faces a significant challenge in keeping him away from corn dogs, bacon sandwiches, roast turkey and his favorite, turkey fried in a crust of Flaming Hot Cheetos.
Tired of waiting for his human servant to convalesce, Little Buddy has assumed blogging duties. The world looks very different through the eyes of a handsome cat.
Big Buddy is still sick, which annoys me for several reasons including: 1) The level of service is subpar and has NOT returned to pre-COVID standards of excellence. Unacceptable! 2) I’m told I have fans on something called the internet, and Big Buddy has been derelict in his duties, which I’m told involve updating all my fans about how delightful I am, and all the awesome stuff I do on a daily basis. (In between regularly scheduled naps, of course.)
So in the interest of serving my many fans, and not because I have a big ego, I’m taking over the blog for the immediate future! If there was ever a time you wanted to hear directly from Little Buddy, now’s your chance.
So where was I? Right. All the awesome stuff I’ve been doing. Here’s the cover of my newest comic book, the Adventures of Baby Bud. It’s about all the awesome stuff I did as a kitten. I am much bigger and more meowscular now, but I was already very handsome in my kitten days:
Handsome and meowscular!
Buddy the Cat and the Mystery of the Missing Cat-Sitters!
We have a mystery on our hands, people! A real head-scratcher!
You see, the number of people willing to cat-sit me has dwindled to zero. That’s really sad awesome, because it means Big Buddy can’t go away OR he has to take me with him to all the places he goes, like Washington, the Outer Banks and upstate New York.
Some of you may remember that I accidentally attacked my original cat-sitter, Sue. There may have been some light clawing and maybe teeth involved, but it was no biggie. Humans are so dramatic about these things.
Well, Sue is very nice and the next time Big Buddy went away, she said she’d still stop by to feed me every day but she wouldn’t play with me anymore. (So dramatic.) Also, she had some sort of shield when she entered my domicile, and she kept saying “Be calm, Buddy, be calm! I’m just here to feed you!”
The thing is, I sort of maybe attacked her again. It wasn’t my fault, okay? I thought a chalupacabra was breaking in and I had to defend my territory!
Fast forward to late June and everyone who had cat-sat for me before was suddenly “busy.” Very strange. So Big Buddy turned to the one person who wouldn’t say no, Mother of Big Buddy, or MoBB, and she watched me while Big Buddy cruelly jetted off to Washington to hang out with Brother of Big Buddy (BoBB), his wife and their vile miniature humans. What? Is vile too strong of a word? Okay, their unpredictable, undeveloped-motor-skills-having, loud, terrifying miniature humans. Is that better?
Anyway, I sort of accidentally attacked MoBB too LOL. See, what happened was she woke up and went into the kitchen to make coffee, and I got agitated when I didn’t see any movement indicating she was going to feed me, and I sort of tripped and tried to break my fall by wrapping all four paws around her right leg, raking them down her calf and maybe kind of biting her shin a little bit until the skin broke.
And, uh, she might have had to go to urgent care, where the doctor claimed the “wound” from my “bite” was “infected” and prescribed her some sort of pills.
Like I said, it was all very dramatic. So now no one will watch me. Poor Little Buddy. I guess I’m just gonna have to sacrifice and accompany my Big Buddy on his next adventure. It’ll be tough, but I’m a team player and I’ll see this through so that my pal can get away for a few days without having to leave me home.
So that’s what’s been up in La Casa de Buddy. What’s up with you? 😎
Pain In The Bud 