It’s little Buddy! What more could you possibly want?
I took this photo on Monday, capturing Bud in the moments between him screeching at me, I believe for snacks. Although it could have been a demand for me to sit on the couch so he can then sit on me. I forget.
There is a practical side to taking random photos like this, which is that it’s easier to really look at nonverbal indicators of health and mood. In this photo his ears are up and relaxed, his whiskers are relaxed, and he’s chill. Aside from making loud and insistent demands of me, that is. Anyway, here he is in all his 12-year-old glory:
Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the most silly looking of them all?
Look at all that fur! Bud could almost pass as a long haired cat if you only saw him laying down like this.
With our first 90-plus-degree days yesterday and today here in New York, a lot of that fur is going to end up on the floor, the couch and my bed if I don’t sneak in some brief brushing sessions when I can:
In other news, I’m very excited to share that PITB t-shirts will be available very soon!
I received t-shirts of two of the print designs and they look great. The plan is to begin with four designs and expand from there. Here’s a photo of one of the launch designs, the Budsden flag:
Buddy becomes increasingly agitated as kittens and cats write in to praise him for voicing the beloved Sesame Street character, Elmo.
Dear Little Buddy,
You’re a humble dude, you know that? All this time we’ve gotten to know you through your blog, with your human sharing stories about your many exploits and adventures, and not once did anyone bother to mention you’re the voice of Elmo.
Of course it makes perfect sense. Who better to play a fluffy, adorable character than a fluffy, adorable kitty?
So now the cat’s out of the bag, tell us: what’s it like voicing Elmo? Are you a method actor, and if so, do you take on the personality of Elmo even when the camera isn’t rolling? Is it hot in that costume? Are you friends with Big Bird? Is Oscar really a grouch off camera?
Your fan,
Cornelius the Kitten
Dear Cornelius,
I am NOT Elmo! I don’t play Elmo, I definitely don’t sound like Elmo, and I don’t even like Elmo!
I don’t know where this slander originated, but clearly someone is jealous of me for being an apex predator with huge meowscles, so they spread these hurtful Elmorian rumors.
Buddy the Tiger
Dear Buddy,
I get it! You’re not Elmo just like Bruce Wayne isn’t Batman. Your identity is safe with me! (But good job playing the character, wink wink!)
Your friend,
Cornelius the Kitten
Dear Buddy,
The kitten is right, you sound exactly like Elmo. When you try to roar it sounds like an extremely constipated Elmo a day after eating PF Chang’s. Your trills sound like Elmo using DuoLingo to learn Spanish.
Go to Youtube, search “tiger roaring” and try to keep a straight face while insisting you sound like a tiger instead of Elmo.
Okay, Elmo?
Grover Fan in Gainesville
Grover Fan,
FAKE NEWS!
Buddy
Dear Elmo,
Can I have your autograph? It’s okay, I know you’re really a cat, you can sign it with your paw.
This weekend marks 12 years since I took home an energetic, bold, curious, talkative gray tabby kitten.
In some ways it feels like it can’t possibly be 12 years since I adopted the Budster, but it also feels like the little dude has been around forever. He’s such an outsize presence with a huge personality, and he never lets you forget he’s around.
As we celebrate the loudmouthed, opinionated, turkey-loving little guy, here are some of his adventures as chronicled here on PITB:
The time he broke into the tiger enclosure at the Bronx Zoo to hang with his “homies” and was claimed as a cub by a tigress who gave him big, sloppy tongue baths.
The time he traveled to the Amazon to hang out with jaguars and was oddly accepted by them after he shared turkey and showed them how to make more comfortable beds.
The time Sir David Attenborough made a documentary about “the silver-furred Buddy” in “his native habitat, the living room.”
The time he issued his little red book filled with his wisdom, like this nugget: “Observe the human, and its wretched species, always in thrall to an invented concept called time. The time is what you say it is. I say it’s time for a snack.”
Bud must have been born some time in February of 2014, but since I don’t know the day, his adoptiversary is his de facto birthday.
We’ve got a long weekend ahead of us, including a party, a dance contest, a cocktail hour with Bud’s jaguar friends, and of course the grand fireworks display on Sunday night. There will be catnip and turkey for all.
Twix is a love bug. Twix will hop up onto your lap and purr up a storm while you pet her. Twix is always up for affection.
She even likes being picked up!
So sweet, she makes Bud look like a cantankerous old man cat.
Everyone in my family has now met my brother’s cat, and it’s dawned on them that not every member of the species felis catus will smack you in the face if you scratch their head too many times or offer affection when they don’t want it.
Bud will. Twix won’t.
Yes, Bud is mercurial. Yes, Bud can be a massive jerk. But he’s my jerk.
And my nieces? They love Twix.
They want to love Bud, but he often makes himself scarce when they’re around and he’s wary of them despite the fact that they’re a bit older now and no longer the lumbering, fine-motor-skills-lacking little humans they once were.
I’ll never forget the day when I saw my oldier niece bicycle kick the family dog, Cosmo, like Liu Kang from Mortal Kombat. She was very young, but still: rapid-fire kicks to the face!
Cosmo growled, Cosmo retreated, but Cosmo never fought back. He was too good for that.
But Bud? He lashed out at the girls once, several years ago now, and they haven’t forgotten about it.
Still, I look at the bright side. Twix has shown the girls that cats can be cuddly and sweet and loving. They’ve got their Twix, and I’ve got my imperious, scheming, turkey-obsessed Buddy.
“Come on, dude, I’ve only attacked like 17 people and occasionally engage in some light mauling.”
Pain In The Bud 