Before we get into the most important day of the year (according to Bud), I wanted to share that we’ve been watching the wonderful Earth At Night In Color.
The title pretty much sums it up: teams of intrepid videographers went to some of the most remote locations on Earth armed with new camera tech that can peer deep into the night, revealing an entire world we can’t see and colors we don’t have names for.
The result is astonishingly crisp and clear images of the nocturnal world, offering opportunities to see things we’ve never glimpsed.
It might be difficult to belive, but this image was shot at night near the banks of the Amazon with only starlight providing minimal illumination.
One episode, Jaguar Jungle, follows a six-year-old male named Juru whose kingdom is an idyllic stretch of the Amazon River where capybaras frolic and caiman are plentiful.
Serendipitously, the crew also encounters a young female jaguar in heat, following the scent trail of a male and calling out. The resulting courtship is fascinating and in the words of narrator Tom Hiddleston, “surprisingly tender.” It’s exactly the sort of thing that would have been impossible to film with regular or even night vision cameras.
Another episode, Puma Mountain, follows a cub on the cusp of adulthood as she learns to survive in Patagonia. The vistas are remarkable in a virtually untouched land far from human light pollution, where wildlife thrives and the glowing ribbon of the Milky Way straddles the horizons at night.
I appreciated the focus on pumas, who are often overlooked in wildlife documentaries, and Earth At Night is perfect for them since the vast majority of their activity happens in the overnight hours.
The series also has episodes dedicated to lions and cheetahs, so there’s lots here for cat lovers. Other highlights include episodes following African elephants, polar bears and tarsiers, which are liliputian primates that look almost like Jim Henson creations.
Aqua!
I move quite a bit when I’m sleeping, and since Bud literally drapes himself over me, you’d think he’d be used to it. I must have shocked him awake with a sudden movement a few nights ago, because he bolted up, freaked out and yelled “AQUA!”
I busted out laughing despite him catching my leg with a claw when he was startled. Then I rubbed his head to let him know all was well, and we went back to sleep dreaming of oceans.
“Aqua?!?”
The Great Day of Turkey
Happy Thanksgiving!
It’s good to have a day dedicated to being grateful, and I think that’s especially important in an era of hyper-commercialism, when the accidentally fortunate use Instagram to rub their wealth in other people’s faces, dueling billionaires vie for political influence and the adoration of the public, and most people conflate what they have with who they are.
My family has banned talk of politics this year, which I think is the smart and mature thing to do.
As for Bud, he’ll have to endure most of the day on his own before I come home with his favorite food in the universe.
I hope everyone out there has a great Thanksgiving and gets to spend it with family and/or friends.
Buddy’s personality is galactic in size, his emotions emblazoned in neon, his opinions shared through a bullhorn.
I used to hate cats.
When I’d hang out at my friend Dave’s house as a teenager, the little shits were everywhere, climbing all over everything with no boundaries and apparently no limit to their numbers.
Dave’s family had between 10 and 12 cats at any particular time, a small army, and as far as I could tell they were little more than inscrutable, uncommunicative tribbles, barely sentient animals who didn’t listen to anyone, could not be told “no,” and were going to stick their little faces in your food or drink no matter how many times you told them to get lost.
Worse, I’d have to dose up on Benadryl just to last a few hours and often left because my eyes were gumming up and my nose was clogged.
There were times when I sat in my car, idling for a half hour with the windows down and heat on blast on frigid nights, waiting for the worst allergic symptoms to subside. I was worried I’d be pulled over and a cop, seeing my half-shut, bloodshot eyes, would decide I was driving stoned or drunk.
Even when another friend adopted a friendly, cuddly tuxedo who became the first cat I truly interacted with, even when I realized I could safely play with one or two cats without getting sick, and even as I was actively looking for a feline of my own, I didn’t think they were intelligent or that it was really possible to meaningfully communicate with them.
At best I’d get a tribble of my own, something to feed and care for in my black depression to take me mentally out of myself.
My little pal, probably around 10 weeks old.
Then Buddy came striding out of his carrier like a furry little Genghis Khan and started conquering shit.
The furry little conqueror
I was prepared for a kitten who might dive under the bed and refuse to emerge except to sneak a bite or take a sip when the coast was clear. Lots of guides for first-time adopters warned the adjustment period for a new cat or kitten could be extensive.
What I got was a boisterous, bold, imperious little dude who was kind enough to allow me to continue sleeping on my bed, which was now his bed. I got a companion who demanded my attention, wanted to be involved in everything, and was going to let me know loudly and unambiguously what he liked and what he didn’t. He took up a regular position on my shoulder, like a parrot with a sea captain. We were — and still are — inseparable.
Buddy’s personality is galactic in size, his emotions emblazoned in neon, his opinions shared through a bullhorn. There’s a vibrant mind in his little head.
If they met Bud, even the most stubborn animal haters, the kind of people who refuse to acknowledge animal intelligence because they think it diminishes our own, would know they’re dealing with a person even if they may not admit it.
That is why this site exists. It’s why I write about cats, why I’m invested in their welfare and why it hurts my soul to hear about so many casual incidents of cruelty committed by humans toward felines.
When I hear about people gunning down cats or pouring lighter fluid on them, I think about what might have happened if Bud ended up with someone else, and I think about the cats who are just like Bud who are killed or seriously injured by cruel humans engaging in senseless violence.
There is no question that those cats suffer, that they feel pain, anxiety and terror as seriously disturbed people inflict pain on them for “lulz,” or because they think hurting cats might earn them Internet Points in the bowels of the web where diseased minds congregate to share shock videos.
“Dude, you can’t be serious.”
The fact that Buddy thinks he’s a hulking tiger is a running joke here, and it’s true. He thinks he’s the baddest boy on the block, and he doesn’t see any dissonance between cosplaying as the Buddinese Tiger one minute, and running behind my legs when he gets scared the next.
Mighty and brave!
It’s been 10 years now, and I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that he can’t be stopped from pawing at the big screen door leading from the living room to the balcony.
But every time he gets his claws caught and he’s left hanging, he starts crying for me. He sounds like a baby, and all he wants in that moment is his Big Buddy to come and pick him up, gently slide his claws out, and rub his head while telling him what a brave and tough little guy he is.
He responds by puffing his chest out and purring. He’s probably thinking “Yes, I am brave, aren’t I? I endured that ghastly ordeal and only cried a little bit!”
Buddy with a very Buddy look on his face.
It’s not all wonder and awesomeness, of course. I never would have guessed an animal could be so resourceful and clever when it comes to being annoying. Bud graduated from cackling gleefully in the dark as he terrorized my feet at night, to repeatedly punching the flap on his litter box because he knows the squeak drives me crazy. He’s also fond of standing on my head and shrieking at full volume into my ear. Not “fill my bowl” or “I need water,” because those needs are taken care of immediately before bed.
The reason he wakes me up, why I’m ripped out of restful slumber by his high-pitched kitten voice, is because he wants me to wake up and be Buddies with him. He wants to hang out.
So as annoying as he can be, and as much as I really, really hate losing sleep, I can’t be mad at him. If only humans were so pure in their intentions and non-judgmental.
Cats are social animals
A lot of people say their cats ignore them or at best acknowledge them with a twitch of their radar ears. When I call Bud, he responds by happily padding up to me, tail raised straight up or curled like a question mark.
That’s because he knows I’ll never hurt him. He knows I’ll never force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, nor will I grab him, subject him to unwanted petting and refuse to let him go. Trust goes a long way in human-feline relationships. In some ways, it’s everything.
Schemeowtics for Buddy the Cat. Note the huge meowscles.
Part of earning that trust means understanding my little pal, learning from him and learning about him. I’ve read more about felis catus than I ever imagined I would, and Bud’s smarts sparked a years-long deep dive into animal cognition that still has its hooks in me.
The belle epoque of feline research
For decades, dogs were the only domestic pet scientists bothered with. Cats were legendarily uncooperative, and the general consensus was that trying to wrangle them wasn’t worth it. If a research team managed to get 150 people to bring their cats into the lab, they were fortunate if a third or a fourth of them worked out.
Over the past 10 years or so, that’s changed as a new generation of scientists began to think in feline terms. Now the research teams come to the cats instead of the opposite, in recognition of how important territory and surroundings are to the species. They’ve also taken study formats originally built for children and dogs, and modified them for moggies.
Thanks to their efforts, we’ve learned a great deal.
Studies have found that, contrary to popular belief, cats really are social animals. If they’re bonded to a person, they value affection more than food or toys! They pay close attention to our whereabouts at all times, even though they’re masters at appearing ambivalent.
They know their names, they know the names of other cats they live with, and studies suggest they may be an even quicker study than toddlers when it comes to basic word association with items and concepts.
The meow isn’t a part of their regular communicative repertoire when they’re strays or ferals, and vocal communication doesn’t come naturally to them, but meows are embedded with meanings we’re only just beginning to understand.
Most amusingly, they’re capable of being dishonest with us and modifying their meows to manipulate us. But don’t let that fool you into thinking cats are real liars: it seems the one and only thing they’re dishonest about is food, probably because they realize we’re suckers.
During our time as inseparable pals, Bud and I have developed our own human-feline patois, a way of communicating that involves verbal and non-verbal cues. I pride myself on knowing what he wants the vast majority of the time, but I also realize the majority of the credit goes to little man for meeting me more than half way.
Sometimes Bud is so insistent, his meows apparently so urgent, that I don’t know what he wants. I can rule out food, water, a foul litter box or demands for pets. If he wants to snuggle or lay in my lap, he doesn’t need to ask. If he wants to play, he lets me know.
So what’s he saying? What could possibly be so important? Is he trying to tell me he’s reconciled quantum mechanics with general relativity? Has he gotten word of an anti-Buddesian plot by the devious neighbor cat, Smudge?
I don’t know. But one thing I do know, that I’m absolutely confident about, is that there are real thoughts scrolling through that little head, and a rich, authentic inner existence.
I’m lucky I’ve gotten to be his buddy, and to learn from him that animals are so much more than vacant-brained automatons I used to think they were.
An optimistic Buddy began election day hoping momentum would carry him to the White House, where he plans to implement dozens of food-related measures.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — With a crowd of more than 60,000 chanting his name, Buddy the Cat made his final appeal to the nation’s felines on Tuesday as they headed to the polls.
“These past four years have been a tragedy,” the candidate told the crowd. “The consistency of wet food has been subpar, dry food has been less crunchy, and Americats are suffering because of inflation, with some snacks costing three times as much as they did in 2020!”
The crowd yowled viciously, expressing its displeasure.
“My opponent, the tyrannical Smudge the Cat, thinks he can hoard all the best snacks for himself while regular Americats make do with grocery brand crunchies,” Buddy continued. “Well I’m here to say ‘Enough!’ I’m here to say that every cat deserves to gorge him or herself on whichever snack they like! I’m here to say no more restrictions on napping spots! I’m here to say that there should be mandatory quiet hours during the dozen scheduled nap times per day!”
The crowd erupted in cheerful meows, waving Americat flags and giant poster-size images of Buddy looking presidential.
A campaign ad for Buddy4Americats.
“I’m also here to tell Vladimir Putin’s cat: Your time has come, Boris! Buddy the Cat is here to kick butt and eat meaty sticks, and I’m all out of meaty sticks!”
“Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!” the crowd roared.
“And to my friends,” Buddy continued, “the tigers of Asia, the lions, leopards and cheetahs of Africa, and our dear fellows, the pumas and jaguars of the Americas, we will form a coalition to bring Boris and his evil servant to heel, liberating Russian cats from the authoritarian rule they have endured for so many years.”
As the crowd chanted his name again, Buddy was hit by a bedazzled pink collar. Waving off half a dozen Sleepy Service agents who moved to quickly close ranks around him, Buddy winked at the Calico who’d thrown the collar, and she fainted.
“Someone get that young lady a bowl of water,” the candidate said, “and make sure her human has my human’s phone number.”
Cats padding out of the rally were enthusiastic and hopeful about their chances.
“Smudge is a corrupt, chubby and inept ‘leader,’ and I use that word in the loosest possible sense,” said Milo, 3, who was voting for the first time. “Buddy’s agenda is the most delicious, and that’s why he’ll win.”
Luna, 5, said Buddy has all the qualities an Americat president should have.
“He’s strong, he understands the importance of naps,” she said, “and he’s so dreamy!”
The city, which was abandoned after a natural disaster, was an important hub of civics, trade, napping and indigenous dishes such as the cheeseburger.
XQOCHOATL, Yucatán — Archaeologists announced the discovery of a vast and prosperous ancient Mayan jungle city whose inhabitants once worshiped an unusually handsome gray tabby as a feline god.
X’Budiso was an important center of trade, religious life, architecture and art, according to Ferdinand Lyle, an archaeologist with the British Museum of London and lead researcher on the project.
His team located the long-lost city using LiDAR — light detection and ranging — a technology that allowed them to peer beneath the cover of heavy jungle and detect the ruins beneath.
Previously, there was only one indication that humans had once inhabited the area — a feline paw holding a cheeseburger, rendered in stone and poking out of a thick tangle of jungle flora. When archaeologists cleared the brush and trees, they revealed the rest of the statue which depicted a regal-looking cat on a plinth, holding the cheeseburger aloft in triumph.
An artist’s impression of the Mayan deity Budacoatl surrounded by offerings of cheeseburgers, dipping sauces and artisanal cheeses inside the Temple of a Thousand Snacks. A cult devoted to Budacoatl, the Ancient Order of Yums, was responsible for taste-testing the snackly offerings.
The city was a bustling metropolis for hundreds of years before its abrupt abandonment, which researchers said was likely caused by a natural disaster such as a flood or pestilence.
“The Budiso people worshiped a pantheon, and at the top of that pantheon was Budacoatl, the tabby jaguar god of snacks, handsomeness and war,” Lyle explained. “Our research indicates that doom fell over the city, likely in the form of a plague, and that its inhabitants believe they may have angered Budacoatl by skimping on their offerings of snacks.”
Feral felines, like the pair pictured here in front of the Temple of Turkey, still live on the grounds of the long-lost city. Source: Buddesian University Archaeological Department
Partially translated glyphs tell of unprecedented growth for the once-prosperous city, which the people believed stemmed from the favor they enjoyed from Budacoatl. Employing a force of more than 100,000 laborers, they built a magnificent temple to the feline deity in the very center of their city.
An architectural wonder, the Temple of Budacoatl featured more than 500 depictions of the feline in statues and relief carvings. The structure was comprised of tiered gardens with artificial waterfalls and tribute chambers, while gilded food and water bowls were placed at regular intervals for the hundreds of mortal cats who lived on the temple grounds.
A nearby structure, the enigmatic Grand Napitorium, was possibly the first sound-proof building in history and affirmed the X’Budiso people’s communal commitment to satisfying siestas.
The city gained a reputation for culinary innovation, and is considered the birthplace of aji sauce, deep fried turkey, huevos rancheros and Temptaciones, the ancient precedessor to Temptations.
The Artisanal Guild of Nectarean Condiments and the Sacred Order of Saucemasters were two particularly prosperous factions in the ancient city, which developed a reputation in the pre-Conquistadorial world for producing the tastiest guacamole.
“It was said that Budacoatl was particularly fond of sandwiches, and the people sang hymns about his power, influence and ripped physique,” Lyle said. “An epic poem, chiseled into the edifice of the temple, told of battle in the heavens between Budacoatl and the mighty Vakuum, scourge of the Maya. Budacoatl prevailed over Vakuum, banishing him to the underworld where his screeching could not be heard by the inhabitants of the Earth.”
Richly detailed relief carvings from the Palace of Pâté depict figures from the feline pantheon. Source: Buddesian University Archaeological Department
At the foot of the wall where the poem is inscribed stands a statue of Budacoatl, one paw holding a pastrami sandwich and the other raised in a sign of peace.
“Budacoatl was a big deal among the Maya,” Lyle said. “At one point he was bigger than Gozer and Zuul, ruling atop the pantheon. As a result, cats enjoyed enormous favor in the city.”
Professor Ferdinand Lyle, foreground, stands in front of the Napitorium, where the Budiso people would take siestas. Napping was an important part of the culture. Source: Buddesian University Archaeological Department
Did you know Buddy the Cat invented the George Foreman Grill and diffused the Cuban missile crisis? Me either!
I was looking through some of my old files the other day when I came upon this forgotten radio broadcast, which provides just a taste of Buddy’s heroics and adventures:
Of course I live with the little guy, so it’s easy to forget how accomplished he actually is. In addition to serving a term as president of the Americats, Buddy has won multiple gold medals at the Olympics, led the New York Yankees to a World Series championship, single-handedly took on the meowfia, and holds the Guinness World Record for most stylishly executed nap.
To me he’s just my Buddy, my fluffy little friend who likes to hang out, meows a lot, and enjoys purring and making biscuits while I rub his head and tell him what a cool dude he is.
Still, it’s nice to know that if I need him to take on evil robots or win a competitive eating contest, he’s got that covered too.
Pain In The Bud 