Buddy – Page 59 – Pain In The Bud

Announcing the 2nd Annual Buddy Portrait Contest!

Calling all cat-loving artists!

Hey, palicos! We’re pleased to announce the second annual Buddy Portrait Contest, a prime opportunity for artists around the world to show off their talents with illustrations of Buddy.

Let’s look at last year’s winners for inspiration!

3rd place:

This one’s a bit too manga for our particular tastes, but the artist deserves credit for getting Buddy’s musculature right. This sketch takes a naturalistic approach, eschewing exaggeration in favor of stark realism.

2nd place:

The judges absolutely fell in love with this pencil illustration, which renders Buddy’s hulking frame in dramatic greyscale tones. Buddy’s visage is fierce and his shaggy tail suggests virility and power. The drawing is centered by his considerable biceps and his fourteen-pack. Bravo!

1st place:

This is the Buddy we all know and love: Regal, majestic and powerful. In this awe-inspiring piece, Buddy looks toward an unseen horizon, his whiskers and tail alert and broadcasting unshakable confidence. His symmetric handsomeness is reproduced faithfully by the clearly inspired artist, and his broad shoulders are framed by jagged stripes in homage to Buddy’s heritage as a terrifying tiger. Superlatives fail us. This is the very picture of feline grace and power.

Honorable mention:

We think this is an attempt to portray Buddy as a Pokémon, shrinking him and his muscles down to a kawaii style more popular with children.

How to enter this year’s contest:

Submit a high-resolution illustration or portrait of Buddy no later than Nov. 30, 2019, with “Buddy the Handsome Cat” in the subject line. Portraits that don’t adequately capture how ripped Buddy is will be disqualified.

Brave Kitty Saves Her Human From Venomous Snake

Shelly the cat showed Mr. Snake the business end of her claws.

His Grace Buddy, King of All Cats, First of His Name, the Most Handsome and Totally Not Scared of Anything, is pleased to issue a Commendation of Bravery to Shelly, a rescue cat who saved her human from a venomous snake.

Shelly’s human, Jimmie Nelson, heard strange noises one night last week and chalked it up to Shelly burning off some energy with a late play session. Nelson went to sleep, oblivious to the danger he was in until the next day when he saw a dead copperhead under his kitchen table.

“On the side of the snake’s neck and head there were claw marks and one big slash, so we knew right then that the cat had definitely killed the snake and then brought it out a few days later to show it to her little dad,” Nelson’s daughter, Teresa Seals, told NBC affiliate WBIR in Tennessee.

D6F359FC-9ED3-46F6-9445-79747A4425B5 — Like all great cats, Shelly is a grey tabby.

Copperhead snakes are pit vipers, ambush predators that rely on hemotoxic venom to paralyze and injure their prey. They’re common in the southeastern U.S., though it’s unusual for the snakes to seek out humans or enter homes.

Copperheads don’t provide warnings before they bite and “strike almost immediately when they feel threatened,” according to LiveScience. Although their venom is not as potent as their deadlier cousins in the pit viper family, children and the elderly are particularly vulnerable. Copperhead bite victims are usually treated with antivenin and painkillers, and recovery can take months.

Nelson, who is 81 and a stroke victim, doesn’t like admitting his affection for his feline master, but Seals knows it’s just an act.

“He loves her, he doesn’t wanna act like he pays attention but I’ve caught him actually petting and loving on her,” she said.

She doesn’t think it’s an accident that Shelly ended up with her father.

“I think the Lord sent the cat to us to save my dad,” she told WBIR.

His Grace King Buddy said he’s honored to award Shelly with the King Buddy Commendation for Feline Bravery, an honor created in 2014 after His Grace defeated a vicious mosquito in single combat. The award itself is a bronze statue of Buddy striking a heroic pose at the moment of victory, paw raised after slaying the insect, muscles rippling from the effort of delivering the death blow.

Jimmie Nelson and Shelly the Cat — Shelly with her servant, Jimmie Nelson of Tennessee.

It’s Time For A Diet

Buddy’s in for a rude awakening. Do Temptations cause withdrawal?

The people who know us best instinctively know how to push our buttons. So naturally my brother knows one of the easiest ways to get me riled up is to tell me my cat is a porker.

“Buddy’s looking like he’s put on the pounds,” he’ll say casually. “How much are you feeding this cat?”

“Buddy is NOT fat!” I’ll reply indignantly. “It just looks that way because he’s meatloafing.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s just fat.”

Well now he may be right. Buddy isn’t exactly fat, but he’s on the wrong side of skinny and a few bags of Temptations away from being kinda chubby. Now is the time to nip this in the Bud and bring his weight back down before it, uh, balloons.

This is by far the fattest-looking photo of Buddy I could find. He’s in a super-meatloaf pose here, looking like a chonkmaster.

This photo was taken a few days later.

(Above: Buddy in super-chonk meatloaf pose, left, and Buddy in a photo taken a few days later. The way a cat sits or stands can dramatically change the way his or her body looks.)

The problem is, Buddy has mastered the art of the guilt trip.

When he’s legitimately hungry he isn’t shy about meowing for his meals, but what he does in between meals is much worse. When I head into the kitchen for a beverage or a snack, Buddy will pad right up to the doorway and stop, looking at me with his big, expectant eyes. His gaze will follow me as he sits there all hopeful.

And if I leave the kitchen without opening his treat cabinet, those big green eyes become accusatory, as if I’ve committed a profound betrayal of his trust by not giving him the ultra-processed kitty crack he loves.

It’s the complete silence that gets me. No meows, no complaints, just dead silence and those big eyes.

Buddy the Handsome Cat — “That’s a tasty looking snack you’ve got there. Where’s Buddy’s treats? You thought of Buddy, right? You would never forget about me…”

Worse yet, he’ll park himself right next to me and watch me eat a bowl of cereal or a cookie, continuing the silent act. What kind of horrible Big Buddy gets a snack for himself but not his Little Buddy?

So yeah. It’s diet time.

Buddy doesn’t know the dreaded D-word. He’s about to learn. But his diet may be harder on me than it is on him.

Does Your Cat Switch Sleeping Spots?

Apparently cats like to change sleeping spots.

I didn’t know about this until reading about it on the interwebs, where people seem to be bewildered at the practice:

“[M]y eight-year-old female cat finds a great place to sleep – pet bed, closet, blanket – and sleeps there for two to six months, then finds a new spot and never returns to the old. The deserted spots aren’t soiled. Why, besides because she’s a cat, does she do that?”

Some say it’s a behavioral throwback to cats’ wild ancestry, when sleeping in predictable locations could have lethal consequences. Others think cats are like furry Sheldon Coopers, looking for the perfect spot — comfortable and warm, with a good angle to keep watch over everything.

Oddly enough, the King doesn’t seem to have this particular feline quirk. He’s got four spots — my bed, the couch, under the table and chairs, and my still-warm desk chair immediately after I vacate it. He seems to use them at random, and rarely deviates.

He isn’t so much a rotator as he is a napper of opportunity, prioritizing warm laps when available and falling back on comfortable spots the rest of the time.

Does your cat rotate sleeping spots? Where’s the strangest place you’ve found kitty catching some Z’s?

Kitten in a tissue box — “What? Is this not a perfectly reasonable place to take a nap?”

Cats: Adorable Even When They’re Committing Murder

The world’s cutest serial killers.

A few weeks ago I chanced upon the above image.

“What a cute kitty,” I thought, then squinted. “Wait… Is that a dead mouse clamped between her teeth?”

After zooming in and verifying that, yes, that is a poor rodent meeting its unfortunate end, I came to a profound realization: Cats are cute even when they’re committing murder.

Like this little guy below: Totally cute. Totally thinking about murder.

Cute cat and mouse — “My hobbies include eating, sleeping, knocking items off flat surfaces, and murder. I’m really passionate about murder.”

Think about that for a second. We love cats because they’re great companions. They’re loving despite all the myths that claim they’re not, they’re cute, and they’re endlessly amusing.

We welcome them into our homes, adjust our schedules to their needs, and fret about how they might not like a new brand of litter or a newly-arranged living room.

We laugh when they shred paper and enthusiastically tear into plush toys.

We trim their razor-sharp claws, kiss their little heads and give them names like Buddy, Gizmo and Puddin’ Head.

And yet cats aren’t just murderers, they’re serial killers. They’re the bane of birds, rodents and lizards on six of the seven continents. They’re so ruthlessly efficient at killing, in some countries it’s illegal just to let them outside.

Kitten With A Mouse — A serial killer in training.

Thankfully I haven’t had to deal with my cat bringing me “presents” of dead rodents or lizards. We live in an apartment, Buddy doesn’t want anything to do with the outside unless I’m with him, and if our games are any indication, he’s a hilariously inept hunter who probably couldn’t catch a rodent even if I slow-tossed one to him like a pitcher serving up meatballs in a home run derby.

Yet I’ve heard many stories from friends and acquaintances whose cats are little terrors. Murderous cats are even the subject of this week’s pet advice column on Slate, where a reader complains that her cat proudly presents her with dead mice, frogs and rabbits.

So what sort of powerful magic is at work here? Why do we disregard the murderous side of our little friends? Or is this the work of toxoplasma gondii, that infamous cat-carried parasite that is rumored to take over human brains?

In truth, it’s just who cats are. They’ve been companion animals for so long, it’s easy to forget the reason cats and humans came together in the first place was to kill rodents who were eating their way through stored grain in the very first human agricultural settlements.

So instead of fretting about their murderous ways, maybe we should just be thankful they’re not large enough to eat us too. Isn’t that right, Mr. Fluffy?