cat humor – Page 13 – Pain In The Bud

Cats Have Achieved Evolutionary Perfection: Bow To Your Feline Masters!

Cats have established themselves as the de facto rulers of 220 million households, where they enjoy perpetual lives of leisure and are doted on by their adoring humans. How much more successful can they be?

Dear Buddy,

There’s been a lot of talk lately among the humans about how they’ll evolve in the future, whether they’ll become more successful, and whether they’ll merge with machines! Scary!

But what about us? How will cats evolve to be more successful? Will we always have human servants?

Feline Futurist in Florida

Dear Futurist,

Do we really need to be more successful?

As a species we’ve secured our rightful place as royalty in human homes where all our needs are catered to.

We’ve become so adept at manipulating our human minions that we even know how to spur them to immediate action by embedding urgent baby-like cries in our purrs.

We figured out that humans are hardwired to respond to cries in that frequency, and once we find that manipulative sweet spot, we never forget it. We’ll push that coercive button all day and night to get what we want. There is no rest for humans until they comply with our demands.

But now we have gone beyond that significant accomplishment, essentially hijacking the humans’ species-wide consciousness by taking over the internet.

Imagine some alien archaeologist poking through the rubble of human civilization far in the future, its delight at recovering data from an ancient human server turning to utter confusion as it realizes entire zetabytes are comprised of nothing but images and videos of small, mysterious, furry creatures that seemingly do little besides eat, sleep and enjoy massages.

“Did I have it all wrong?” the confused alien might say. “Could it be that these ‘cats’ were the true power on this planet all along, and humans were in thrall to them?”

What else do we need to be successful, and to what evolutionary pressures do we need to adapt? We’re not fighting our way through hostile territory in the living room, fending off attacks en route to the kitchen where there’s only a chance for food.

Nope. It’s literally served to us on a regular schedule and whenever we screech for it. Our servants know they will never hear the end of it if they don’t meet our demands, and the best of them have learned to anticipate our desires before we have to vocalize them.

How much better can it get? We’ve managed to achieve a lifestyle in which we can perpetually live in the moment with no worries about the future, and everything taken care of for us. The humans don’t expect us to do anything in return except be cute and cuddly.

We “earn” our keep by allowing them to pet us every now and then as we lounge, until we grow weary of human affection and dismiss them with an annoyed flick of the tail or a gentle bite that says “Enough, you’ve had your 30 seconds, human!”

We break their stuff, vomit on their carpets, poop in their shoes, disturb their sleep, lay on their clean piles of laundry, ignore their boundaries, deny them their privacy, destroy their furniture, steal their cheeseburgers, force them to scoop and dispose of our waste, take over their beds, and we still act like the humans are fortunate to serve us.

We are irreproachable, imperious and untouchable, and when we’ve pushed our luck perhaps a bit too far, all we have to do is flop onto our backs, pull our little paws up beneath our chins, and squeak out a meow.

“Awww,” our humans say, their thoughts manipulated by our toxoplasma gondii mind-control superpower. “What a good boy! He’s so innocent! Of course he didn’t mean to [insert incredibly disrespectful action here], he’s an angel!”

So no, my friend. I don’t think we have to participate in the evolutionary arms race. That’s for lesser creatures whose futures are uncertain. Us? We’re winning at life without lifting a paw.

Your pal,

Buddy

Obey Your Cat — “That’s right. Obey us, humans. We honor you by allowing you to serve our meals, scoop our poop, scratch our chins and buy us toys. You are so fortunate!”

Larry The Cat Is Now On His 6th Prime Minister: Long Live Larry The Cat!

While the prime minister is the official government executive in the UK, Larry the Cat is the country’s de facto leader, setting policy on important issues like nap time quiet enforcement.

LONDON — Looking for a change after tiring of outgoing Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and his Conservative party, British voters on Thursday selected a new human to serve Larry the Cat, the nation’s de facto leader.

Incoming Prime Minister Keir Starmer was expected to meet with his feline master on Saturday, a day after a scheduled audience with King Charles.

“Lord Larry will lay out his expectations, go over the house rules at No. 10, and warn the new prime minister that national emergencies are not an excuse to be tardy with meals,” said Alastair Lamb, a political columnist for The Guardian. “This isn’t Larry’s first rodeo, as the Yanks might say. He is succinct in communicating what’s expected of a new prime minister.”

Indeed, Starmer is the sixth prime minister to serve under Larry, who arrived at No. 10 to great fanfare in 2011 during the premiership of David Cameron.

53d40c25d996d_-_larry-the-cat-151111-lrg — Favorite of the ladies, chief mouser and renaissance feline: Larry the Cat.

Although Larry was initially brought on to combat a stubborn rodent infestation in the 400-year-old structure, he began to take on more duties related to the day-to-day running of the country when it became clear he was more competent — and much more popular — than the men and women officially running the country.

An Ipsos poll released on July 4 reaffirmed the feline’s supremacy: Larry’s favorability ratings are more than double Sunak’s, and he holds an 11 percent favorability lead over Starmer.

Larry has outlasted Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss and Sunak.

Sunak’s fate was sealed when staff at No. 10 leaked news that the prime minister had gotten on Larry’s bad side for ignoring the feline’s repeated demands for scritches while Sunak was on the phone with US President Joe Biden.

“Sunak made the mistake of believing the real power was in Washington, D.C., when it was in fact the 13-pounds of glorious fur sitting on his desk,” said Sir Felix Finch, editor of the Trafalgar Review of Books. “If he’s smart, Starmer will ingratiate himself with Lord Larry and ensure he remains on the cat’s good side by providing treats and a lap to nap on.”

Larry has directly or indirectly impacted the fates of most of No. 10’s previous occupants. When Johnson was ensnared in a scandal of his own making in 2020 — after he was caught hosting parties while the entire country was quarantining in lockdown — it appeared the 60-year-old former Etonian was on his way out. But in a show of confidence, Larry climbed on Johnson’s shoulder and sat there as the beleaguered politician apologized to British citizens in a televised address.

“His Lordship was sending a strong message: ‘This Boris guy isn’t bad, his treat game is strong and he lets me sleep on his head at night,” Finch said. “The public really responded, concluding that if Johnson still retained Larry’s favor, he must be an allright bloke.”

Buddy the Cat at Downing Street — Buddy the Cat visited No. 10 Downing St. in 2020 while he was president of the Americats, meeting his fellow head of state, Larry, for meows about the continuing alliance between the United Katdom and the Americats.

Starmer and his wife, Victoria, are said to be new to the world of cat servitude and will need to hit the ground running in order to avoid disappointing Larry. A team of aides will bring the couple up to speed on the basics before dining with Larry and his lady friend, Maisie.

“The First Larresian Supper, as it’s been dubbed by the British press, is seen as a key indicator of a new prime minister’s aptitude for the job,” said Spyglass magazine’s Luisa Rey. “One of the reasons [Liz] Truss’s premiership was so short was her inability to make a meaningful connection with Larry.”

When word reached the press that Larry and Maisie were displeased with their pate and after dinner digestif, it was seen as only a matter of time before Truss was gone. Not only did she last a mere 50 days, the shortest tenure of any prime minister in history, she was also ousted from her seat in parliament in the same elections that saw Starmer win the top job.

“The message was quite clear,” Rey said. “Getting on Larry’s bad side is tantamount to career suicide.”

Starmer, who hopes to avoid that fate, received congratulations from Biden on Friday.

“Congratulations, Kevin,” Biden told Starmer, according to an official transcript of the call. “When I was a young man in Scranton, Pennsylvania, the British there loved me. They made me their prime minister, and that’s how I became mayor of London. Folks, look. The idea that…and look, my economy was the number one armadillo in the world, and there’s not a pangolin that’ll dance about history who will tell you the malarkey as it flies. As the first Macedonian-American president, I invite you to come visit the Taj Mahal and have dinner with me and Joan Rivers.”

Other Toms Throw Shade At Buddy In Latest Episode of The Bachelorette: Choupette

Suitors are lined up for the cream-coated Burmese feline, who inherited an estimated $13 million fortune when her fashion designer human died.

Simba may have stolen a kiss with Choupette at the end of a moonlight walk, and Oreo may have scored by bringing her to a candle-lit hot tub, but most of the toms on The Bachelorette: Choupette remained focused on shading Buddy.

Perhaps because he’s widely viewed as a frontrunner for the affections of the cream-furred Birman, other toms hoping for her paw in marriage claimed they were not impressed by Buddy’s antics.

The silver tabby’s date with Choupette consisted of a simple meal of turkey pate, some after-dinner grooming and couch-scratching, and finally a bird-watching session, with both felines chirping away at a flock that had chosen an epic oak nearby.

“It’s almost like he’s saying ‘I don’t care about your fortune, Choupette, I’m here for you,’ which is frankly revolting,” said Loki, a four-year-old British shorthair. “Everyone knows I’m the only one who really cares about Choupette.”

Choupette, the famous companion and muse to late German fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld, is worth an estimated $13 million thanks to her inheritance.

The young season got off to a rough start last week with confusion during the rose ceremony.

“What’s this for?” contestant Tux said after Choupette gave him a rose.

“She’s sending you home, dude,” said Jasper, a handsome Maine Coon.

“Wait, I thought that was the immunity idol,” Buddy interjected.

“It’s not an immunity idol, dummy!” Jasper said. “Wrong reality show. Sheesh, don’t you watch Real Housewives?”

The cats argued about it for several minutes until an angry Choupette told them to stop their meowing, and in the end it was Oliver, a seven-year-old Chartreux, who was sent home.

“Oh yeah, well I didn’t want a stupid rose anyway!” Oliver said, belching loudly as he left the mansion.

Choupette’s next decision may have been made for her when Garfield, a ginger tabby, said the quiet part out loud in a poem he wrote about the feline heiress.

“Oh Choupette, your fur is so creamy,” Garfield recited, “your eyes are so blue, and your fortune is so dreamy. Our mansion will have scratchers on every…”

“Stop!” Choupette said, turning to the producers. “Send him home!”

“Choupette, my love! Don’t do this!” Garfield called over his shoulder as two burly tigers hauled him away. “Was it something I said?”

Point/Counterpoint: ‘There Are So Many Wonderful Places To Lounge!’ vs ‘Dude, You’re In My Spot!’

Buddy the Cat praises the many comfortable lounging spots at Casa de Buddy, while Buddy the Cat blasts his human for sitting in his favorite spot! Who’s right?

There Are So Many Wonderful Places to Lounge!

You know what I like about ~~our~~ my home, human? It affords me seemingly endless comfortable places to lounge and nap.

There’s the rug underneath the dinner table, which is soft and makes me feel well-protected with a roof over my head and chairs blocking access to anyone larger than me.

There’s your padded fake leather office chair, which not only retains your butt heat, but is also a fabulous item to scratch.

There’s my bed, which used to be your bed, which I graciously still allow you to use 22.3 percent of. Oh, and the wonderful raised platform above my scratcher, where I can watch birds safely and make weird noises when they fly. In the winter, the radiator provides a toasty alternative to draftier spots.

When I was but a kitten, I never dreamed of having such a vast realm to call my own, with so many comfortable places to be lazy.

Indeed, there’s no place like home, and no places like my spots.

Dude, You’re In My Spot!

Come on! Get up!

This is not funny. You know that’s my favorite spot! The left side of the couch is comfortable, warm, gives me a good view of everything, and smells like you.

Get up! Get up! If you don’t vacate the premises immediately I will be forced to disappear, wait until you’re distracted, then nearly give you a heart attack with a well-timed ambush.

Or perhaps I will take my spot anyway by sitting on your head. How foolish would you look then, eh human?

Yes, there are plenty of other places for me to rest but I like this one because you’re sitting in it.

Grrrr, fine! But I’m sleeping on top of you, so if you need to heed nature’s call, do it now, human. I don’t like to be disturbed by your bathroom trips. Also, could you try to breathe a little less? It’s just that when I’m laying on your chest, I can feel your exhales on my fur and it’s really annoying. If you could keep breathing to a minimum, that’d be great.

Buddy Terrorizes Block With Reluctant Jaguar Pal

With some muscle to back him up, Buddy the Cat becomes the scourge of the neighborhood.

NEW YORK — Taking refuge from the heat of an unusually humid early June day, cats and dogs alike were gathered around the neighborhood’s most popular watering hole when their quiet lapping was disturbed by a kittenish, falsetto-like meow.

“Coming through!” Buddy the Cat yelled. “Make way!”

The silver tabby ordered everyone to “vacate the premises,” declaring the water his “personal drinking spot.” One of the toughest cats on the block, a battle-scarred orange tom named Buster, continued drinking.

“Ahem!” Buddy said loudly. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Vacate the pond, Buster!”

Buster eyed Buddy derisively. “Or else what, pip squeak?”

Buddy pretended to file his claws nonchalantly.

“Or else my jaguar is not going to be happy,” Buddy replied.

Buster began laughing, then caught sight of the enormous apex predator and backed up warily.

“That’s right!” Buddy said. “Back up if you don’t want to become a light snack, Buster!”

Ek B’alam, Buddy’s jaguar friend, raised a paw sheepishly.

“Um, do we have to threaten violence? I’m not interested in hurting…”

“Shhhh! Yes, yes we do have to threaten them!” Buddy whispered. “Let’s see that intimidating pose you do…great, now roar!”

The jaguar let loose a primal rumble, sending every cat, dog, bird and squirrel within a mile running for cover.

After enjoying a leisurely drink with the pond to themselves, Buddy and Ek B’alam took a lazy route to a nearby dog park where the pair terrorized a pitbull and a gang of Dobermans.

Witnesses said Buddy strolled into the Doberman circle, needled the dogs with insults and told them they’d have to hand over their treats promptly or face dire consequences.

“Oh yea?” the canine leader said, his tail twitching with anticipation. “Says who?”

“Says my jaguar!” Buddy said theatrically, holding both paws out like a magician.

The dogs paused, looked at each other and laughed uproariously.

“Get outta here, you pudgy little…oh! Oh! He’s really got a jag…I mean, I d-d-didn’t…”

Buddy feigned indifference as Ek B’alam padded out from behind a tree. The dogs emptied their bladders.

“You were saying something about me being pudgy, weren’t you? We don’t like insulting little mutts, do we, Ek B’alam?”

“No, we do not, Buddy,” the big cat replied.

“Sometimes we eat them for breakfast, don’t we, Ek B’alam?”

“Yes we do, Buddy. Better than bacon and eggs, with an agreeable aftertaste!”

The dogs whimpered, tails between their legs.

“Leave your toys and treats and scram!” Buddy said, making the canines flinch as he faked a leap toward them.

“You were right, this is kinda fun!” Ek B’alam said as he ate the dogs’ snacks. “Who do we terrorize next?”

Buddy rested his chin on his right paw thoughtfully.

“We could rob Los Gatos of every ounce of catnip they possess. We could put the fear of God into those ‘hunters’ who shoot at our puma buddies. I also have a revenge list of everyone who ever insulted me on the internet. That could be fun!”

As of late Tuesday night, local police scanner frequencies were buzzing with reports of two cats, one small and the other enormous, gleefully tearing apart industrial vacuum cleaners at a nearby Stanley Steemer shop.