Buddy has grown tired of most of his toys and his beloved birdie is in danger of disintegrating. This cannot stand!
Since my human has been working on some other stuff, I thought to myself, “Budster, why don’t you take over that there site and deputize its readers as my servants?”
So congratulations, you have the great honor of being my secondary staff!
Now to the meowtter at paw: I require new toys. The old ones are boring, I’ve torn my favorite birdie to shreds, and there are only so many times I can terrorize Big Buddy by doing cannonballs onto his stomach while he sleeps. If he has a heart attack, who will feed me?
What I need from you humans are some suggestions. You’re the inferior species when it comes to napping, lounging, being fearsome, roaring, being ridiculously good looking, and bathing yourselves.
But you do make good toys!
Just a heads up, I’m terrified bored of those floppy fishes, I have two of those track toys where you slap the ball around with your paw, and I have a cat tunnel and my very own mini camping tent. I am also the proud owner of a variety of excellent boxes!
I need something fresh, something exciting. My human says I need a toy that gets me up, running and jumping. Grudgingly, I admit he may be onto something. My incredible hunting skills must be honed and maintained with regular practice.
From summer 2014 when Bud was about five months old.
Bud says: “Derp derp derp! I’m a bug-eyed kitten! Derp!”Bud says: “Now THIS is a more regal image befitting my status as a handsome feline!”Bud says: “Here I am in action! As you can see, I was ripped but not quite as meowscular as I am now.
Buddy, convinced that his human can control the weather, would like more moderate temperatures. Is that too much to ask?
A big chunk of ‘Merica has been sweltering this week, and New York has been no exception.
Tuesday was supposed to be the most brutal of the brief heat wave, but Wednesday felt the most oppressive to me, like walking through a hot soup and having no choice but to “drink” it until you can escape to the air conditioned indoors again.
The temperature was in the high 90s with a heat index of 104 thanks to the humidity. That’s the real killer: while I don’t envy parts of the southwest that see temperatures of 100+ more frequently, summers here are marked by disgustingly sweaty weather. Humidity reached 99 percent on June 2, and this week we’ve had spikes of 80 percent and higher.
As bad as it is for us, it’s worse for our furry little pals. For them it’s like wearing a jacket you can’t take off.
Poor Buddy! Is it too much to ask to have a human who can control the weather?
The Budster has been shedding like crazy the past few weeks, and I’ve been brushing him to help him get rid of that excess fur — and prevent it from “decorating” the place.
On Tuesday I decided to open the door to the balcony, mostly to see how he’d react. He loves the balcony, which offers cat TV, the opportunity to soak up the sun and take in new scents and sounds.
But with the sweltering temperature, Buddy approached the door to his beloved balcony with caution. He stepped outside, paused for a second or two, gave me a disgusted look, then turned right back around and padded inside, where he recovered from his ordeal by lounging.
Life’s tough for a cat.
Buddy in his heroic Mega-Buddy (Megaru Badi) form, in the style of Bikkuriman.
The little dude may be following Marjorie Taylor Greene on Twitter, because the look he gave me strongly suggests he thinks I can control the weather.
“It’s unacceptably brutal out there!” I imagine he’s thinking. “Fix it, human! Do I have to verbalize everything, or can you be a proper servant and anticipate my needs ahead of time?”
Of course we’re talking about a cat who refuses to set paw outside unless it’s a balmy 65 degree minimum, preferably between 73.5 and 76 degrees. No rain, no cold, definitely no snow, and no excessive heat!
Thankfully the heat broke, and today we’re forecast for a balmy 75. Cue the Sir David Attenborough voice: “But there’s a problem! A tomato plant has appeared on the balcony, and even though Buddy’s a meowscular tiger who shows no fear*, tomatoes and their vines are poisonous to him.
On the off chance that we’ve got some readers who don’t have cats, would anyone like a tomato plant?
* Buddy exhibits no fear except when it comes to rustling paper bags,vacuums, Swiffers, brooms, music intended for cats, sudden movements, floppy fish toys, loud vehicles including but not limited to trucks, outdoor animals who make scary noises, and certain kinds of cheese. But other than that, he’s totally fearless.
An old enemy lies in wait in the far reaches of the galaxy, ready to exact revenge on the most dashing, clever and dashingly clever captain in Starfleet!
ALPHA QUADRANT, Milky Way Galaxy — Captain Buddy is back for his most thrilling, treacherous and scrumptious adventure yet!
As the commanding officer of the USS Fowl Play and a legend within the galactic community, Captain Buddy and his trusty crew get the call to investigate reports of the malevolent Borg raiding colonies on the edge of Federation space.
Our intrepid captain arrives just in time to fend off a Borg cube attacking Dawn’s Edge, one of the largest colonies on the Felinian Rim. After mounting a heroic defense and defeating the diabolical enemy spacecraft, brave Captain Buddy discovers the Borg weren’t just trying to assimilate the peaceful Caitians living in the colony: they were after the colonist’s turkey, tuna and dilithium reserves as well!
With reinforcements several days away, Captain Buddy is tasked with defending the colony, reassuring terrified colonists, and managing a dwindling supply of sandwiches and snacks…
Pain In The Bud 