Category: Buddy

Bewildered Tigers Watch As Buddy Enters Enclosure

NEW YORK — A domestic feline entered the big cat enclosure at the Bronx Zoo on Wednesday, with the bemused tiger inhabitants unsure of how to respond to the brazen intruder.

“Sup guys!” the silver tabby calling himself Buddy meowed to the confused big cats, according to witnesses.

The bold domestic feline, who weighs approximately 10 pounds, made his way around the enclosure, fist-bumping each of the tigers before sauntering over to the rock pool and laying down next to a 506-pound male named Gerald.

“Whaddup, Gerald,” Buddy the Cat said as he emulated the much larger cat’s posture. “What’s good, my homie?”

Gerald turned his head toward the smaller cat and roared, but Buddy was unperturbed.

“Yeah,” he said to the massive tiger. “I feel you, bro. Haters gonna hate, am I right? Us apex predators just don’t get no respect no more.”

Gerald roared again.

“Exactly what I’m saying, my dude,” Buddy replied.

The massive felid eyed Buddy for a second as if deciding whether there was enough meat on his bones to justify turning him into a snack, then shrugged and yawned.

Bud and Gerald the Tiger
Best homies.

Asked later why he entered the tiger enclosure, Buddy said it was “important to connect with my heritage.”

“I’m showing solidarity with my peeps,” the silver tabby told reporters.

Encouraged by the fact that the tigers seemed to tolerate his presence, Buddy returned to the enclosure later the same day, only for a white tigress to claim him.

“I’m not your cub!” the tabby said, squirming as the tigress lifted him with the scruff of his neck between her teeth. “I’m a grown tiger! Put me down this instant!”

The domestic cat still hadn’t emerged from the tigress’ den by the next morning. A witness using a telephoto lens confirmed Buddy tried to make a run for it several times, only to be pulled back and given a tongue bath.

“Unpaw me! Untongue me!” he could be heard screaming from inside the den. “Help! Somebody help me!”

A zoo spokesman said there were currently no plans to free Buddy the cat.

Purrlock Holmes and The Fowl of The Baskerville

“And the turkey, it were just gone, just like that!” said the fat cat relaying his story to Purrlock in the sitting room at 221B Baker St. “The bowl was full of fresh, delicious turkey one minute, then licked clean the next. Third time this week. I’m at me wit’s end!”

Purrlock plucked a discordant note on his cello and shifted in his seat.

“It’s all perfectly obvious then, isn’t it?”

The pudgy cat looked hopeful, his primordial pouch jiggling as he leaned forward.

“It is?”

“Indeed. Your roommate Socks is known for fastidious grooming, yet he had a Klingon on his rear two hours after the turkey went missing, which means someone was using the litterbox more frequently and Socks was far less careful than normal in his haste to exit the befouled box. From the abundance of tracked litter outside the box we can deduce that another cat made use of it on several more occasions between the time it was last cleaned at 10 pm the previous evening and 10 am this morning.

“In addition, only two of the three bowls — yours and Socks’ — were licked clean, with several morsels of beef pate still left in Oreo’s bowl. Thus we can deduce Oreo ate your turkey and most of his beef pate, necessitating twice his usual trips to the litter box, accounting for the larger-than-usual mess inside, Socks’ unfortunate Klingon, and the extra tracked litter. Ergo, Oreo was your turkey thief. Next!”

Elementary, my dear Watson
Purrlockian attire.

Mr. Fuzzy stood up as Purrlock returned to plucking his cello.

“That were amazing, that was!” Fuzzy said to Watson as he shuffled out of the sitting room. “Now it’s time for me to have a little talk with me mate Oreo. Good day, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson!”

Watson waited until Fuzzy had descended the steps leading out from 221B Baker Street before clearing his throat.

“Forty six seconds,” he said, managing to sound impressed. “Might be a new record.”

Purrlock didn’t look up from his cello.

“Please. London’s criminals are becoming tediously predictable, Watson. If a criminal mastermind doesn’t emerge soon, I’ll have to go and rob a tin cannery myself just to alleviate this dreadful boredom!”

“Your brother Meowcroft phoned earlier. Said he had a case of national importance.”

Purrlock sighed. “Boring!”

Watson jumped onto his desk, pawing through a pile of letters and documents.

“How about this then, Purrlock? From this morning’s paper: ‘Mistmoor Gentlecat Found Dead, Witnesses ID ‘Spectral Hound’ As Culprit.'”

Purrlock played arpeggios.

“Yokels convincing themselves they saw ghostly Beagles? We can do better than that, my dear Watson.”

Tires screeched and a car horn blasted in the street below, followed by obscenities in at least three languages.

“That’s too bad,” Watson meowed, feigning disinterest. “Mistmoor’s home to one of the nation’s largest turkey farms, you know.”

Purrlock’s ears pricked up and swiveled.

“Did you say turkey? My dear Watson, when there’s turkey involved, always lead with that!”

He put down his cello and reached for his coat and hat.

“What are we waiting for, Watson? The game is apaw!”

To be continued…

Cat Performs Record 26 Tricks In A Minute

“Hey Bud, c’mere!”

“I’m lounging.”

“Get your lazy ass up and come here!”

“This better be good…”

“Check it out, little dude: This cat performs 26 tricks in 60 seconds.”

“That’s a world record. Whattya think, wanna try to beat it?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on! You can already do stop, sit, high-five and fist bump. It’ll be fun. You only need to learn 23 more.”

“Sounds like a lot of work. I’m just not that ambitious, Grand Amigo.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna let some Austrian cat claim the title of world’s smartest kitty?”

“I’m sure she needs it. What else is there to do in that backwater country except drink Foster’s and punch kangaroos?”

“Austrian, not Australian.”

“That’s what I said. G’day, matey! Beautiful day to skip uni, how ’bout we throw some shrimp on the barbie and drink our non-alcoholic beer?”

“Austria. It’s a different country, you idiot.”

“Now you’re just trying to confuse me so I’ll agree to learn more tricks. I will not fall for another one of your schemes, human!”

Buddy the Cat

My Favorite Photos Of My Best Little Buddy

Here’s my newest favorite photo of the Budster, which you guys have seen in the humor post about Buddy’s gallery exhibit at the Louvre:

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This photo is so Buddy. He’s sitting in the coffee table and staring at me with that classic Buddy expression on his face, which usually means he’s waiting for me to play hunting games with him, or just to give him a few scratches on his head and tell him he’s a good boy.

This next one is a random shot, taken with my old iphone when Bud was just laying down and looking cute:

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I loved the photo from the moment I snapped it, but I loved it even more when a reader saw it and remarked that it looked like the little guy was “radiating love” at me behind the camera. Either that or he’s thinking “Don’t dally, human, run and fetch my snacks!”

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This one was taken outdoors on the balcony. Bud loves to soak up the sun and warmth during the spring and summer. In the natural light you can really see his coat pattern, his unbroken tabby stripes and the deep green of his eyes. In indoor artificial light, his eyes appear a different shade of green and sometimes yellow. His coat pattern also appears much more subtle under LED and incandescent lighting.

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Here’s the little dude as a baby. Unfortunately I took most of his kitten photos with an old iPhone and they’re not very good.

Still, I do miss his kitten days when I look at these shots. Bud was quite a fuzzy kitten. He was a talker from the very beginning, and even if I couldn’t see him at a particular moment, I always knew where he was because I could hear him chatting away and all his exclamations as he played with plastic bottle caps or gleefully knocked things off shelves.

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Buddy on a rainy day, staring out from inside the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. He looks bummed that the sun isn’t out.

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More baby photos! I remember showing some of these shots to my brother when we went hiking one weekend a few weeks after I’d adopted the Budster. My brother, who should be one to talk as he dotes on his beloved dog, said: “I think you’re in love!”

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You don’t wanna mess with these guns! Buddy flexing his considerable muscles.

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Kitten loaf!

I do have a few decent kitten photos taken with the Canon T3. This was before I took a photography course and learned how to properly use the damn thing. I like to think I’ve come a decent way since then. As in the previous kitten photo, Bud’s eyes were the familiar kitten gray before they began to turn the now-familiar deep green in adulthood.

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I really like this one. There’s nothing too special about it, but the little guy is intently focused on something and looks happy.

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Another one with the classic “Buddy look.” He’s a very vocal cat and was probably trilling with interest at something when I took this shot.

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A fairly recent shot from the past month or two. I like this one. Buddy is very expressive, and this photo captures his whimsical look pretty well.

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And finally we have Chubby Buddy pulling off a classic loaf pose and undoubtedly thinking about delicious turkey.

Are Laser Pointers Bad For Cats?

Bud is obsessed with his new laser pointer.

I bought one for the first time more than a week ago. For years I’d occasionally break out a level that shoots a narrow band of laser light that appears like a small stripe, and while Buddy enjoyed chasing after it, I’m thinking the laser probably wasn’t as powerful or didn’t register as well in the spectrum of light most visible to felines.

Whatever the reason, while he liked chasing the level’s laser light, he loves this $5 pet laser.

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In fact, he loves it a little too much. Every day, if I haven’t taken it out for play time, he climbs up onto the coffee table and begins pawing at the tray that contains the laser pointer and TV remotes. He finds the pointer, bats at it with his little paws, and makes mewing sounds that undoubtedly translate to: “Play time! I want! I want! Play with me now!”

I can see now why some people warn against using these things. I thought the upside was worth the potential downside, because the laser pointer gets the little dude moving like few other toys do. (And even then only when they’re new and novel.)

Bud’s single-mindedness with the laser pointer reminds me of his one-track mind when it came to Temptations, before I stopped buying those infernal things. (Blue Buffalo makes very similar-looking treats that he happily gobbles up, but instead of the corn and filler of Temptations, they’re made of chicken, turkey, salmon and so on.)

Crucially he doesn’t act like a crack addict the way he did with the Temps, when he’d park himself by the treat cabinet and meow mournfully for his next fix.

The Red Dot!
I’ve caught the red dot! I’m eating it!

So I’m wondering: What kind of experiences have you guys had with laser pointers? Have you used them? Have your cats become obsessed?

One final thought: Bud is fully aware the laser comes from the pointer, and he knows I have to press the button for the beam to work. That’s a clear example of abstract thinking. So far he hasn’t figured out a way to activate it himself, but you never know…