Caption a photo of the world’s most Buddinese feline!
Is he yawning? Screaming in terror before dashing behind my legs? Reacting to someone spilling the tea about a friend? Awestruck at a giant turkey?
Well, that’s up to you!
Buddy is many things, but he’s NOT quiet. His incessant chattiness can kill my sleep and my peace and quiet, but in the world of A Quiet Place, it would kill me! Would your cat get you killed in the movie franchise’s monster-stalked reality?
As a cat lover, big time science fiction fan and appreciator of the first two A Quiet Place installments, the very first thing I thought when I saw the trailer for A Quiet Place: Day One was “I hope the cat doesn’t meow!”
My second thought? Bud and I would be so, so dead.
Dead immediately. Dead a thousand times over.
Apparently I’m not the only one, because fans have taken to social media to participate in the “Quiet Place Challenge,” which involves reenacting some of the scenes from the movie with their own cats to see if their furry overlords can stay silent.
As PITB readers know, Buddy never shuts up. He’s got something to say about everything, he often narrates his activities in real time, and he’s got an entire meowing ritual that starts at least a half hour before Food O’Clock, gaining in volume and annoyingness until a fresh bowl of turkey is placed before him. His personal patois, the Buddinese dialect, makes heavy use of trills, chirps, grunts, chuffs and sniffs to elaborate on his meows.
If you’re unfamiliar with the Quiet Place movies, they imagine a world that’s been invaded by so-called Death Angels, dread creatures of extrasolar provenance who are completely blind, but have extraordinarily sensitive hearing. The first movie, about a family surviving on their farm in upstate New York months after the initial invasion, was universally lauded for its taut script, effective tension and novel use of a quiet/loud dynamic that is a marked departure from the usual horror-thriller formula.
In A Quiet Place (2018), its 2020 sequel and the recently-released prequel, Day One, entire minutes pass soundlessly. As a viewer you can’t help but wince and tense up when a character errs and makes noise, knowing the consequences can be immediately tragic.
There’s simply no way Bud and I would survive more than five minutes, and if I had to put money on it, I’d wager we’d probably be dead within 60 seconds of the terrifying monsters showing up.
Indeed, the movie doesn’t dither: the Death Angels make planetfall at around the 12 minute mark. Mild spoilers from the beginning of the film follow:
12:31 – On Chinatown’s ruined Pell Street, within a haze of dust so thick you can’t see more than a few feet in any direction, a man shouts loudly into his smartphone, telling the person on the other end that something meteor-like had landed just a few hundred feet away. He’s pulled suddenly and violently into the smog, his scream ending as abruptly as it began. Verdict: Death by Buddy. He’d probably meow in protest at the dust and get us both killed immediately.
12:53 – A female National Guard soldier sees Nyong’o’s Sam and shouts at her to take cover. The guardswoman’s radio crackles with the panicked screams of her comrades saying the enemy is everywhere, and then she’s dispatched as quickly as the guy on the phone. Verdict: Death by Buddy. He’d almost certainly huff derisively at the soldier’s order to take cover, and we’d both be crushed underneath the foot of one of the lumbering beasts.
13:34 – Sam huddles behind a vehicle with another woman when a panicked man screams, drawing the aliens like moths to a flame. Verdict: Death by Buddy. Little dude’s default reaction when he’s scared is to run screaming and hide behind my legs. He’d draw the monsters right to us and we’d die.
13:50 – Sam wakes up inside a theater several minutes after an explosion knocked her out. She’s about to speak when Djimon Hounsou’s Henri clamps a hand over her mouth and raises a finger to his lips. Unfortunately that doesn’t work with a cat. Verdict: Death by Buddy. Attempts to get him to shut up would be fruitless, and while I’d know my only chance for survival would be to throw him like a football so the aliens track his indignant screech, I wouldn’t have the heart to do it. We’d die together.
Frodo, the feline co-star of Day One and “service cat” to Lupita Nyong’o’s Sam, is precisely the opposite. He’s a Good Boy extraordinaire, consistently calm in his mother’s arms and reliably silent when he needs to be.
Without meows to rely on, director Michael Sarnoski gets quite a performance out of Nico and Schnitzel, the two cats who play Frodo. They’re expressive felines who could teach Nicolas Cage a thing or two about how to emote with subtlety, as in one scene when Frodo sees a man emerge gasping from a flooded subway station. Frodo regards the stranger with curiosity, his little face registering surprise at the man’s sudden appearance with just the slightest twitch of his mouth and whiskers.
It’s effective and very cute, but we never forget about the incredible danger that faces Frodo and Sam as they return the One Ring to Mount Doom navigate the ruins of New York City amid blind predators with extraordinarily sensitive hearing.
If Day One’s world was reality — and I’m extremely thankful it’s not — I suppose it’s possible I’d get lucky if we were in a deep subterranean level of a building for some odd reason, and if Bud decided it’s not worth disturbing his nap to investigate the ruckus above.
But the moment his belly rumbles and he starts screeching for yums, or the second he gets it into his little head that he just has to tell me his latest theory regarding entangled subatomic particles, it would all be over, for me at least. I could totally see Bud making noise, then dashing to his customary hiding place behind my legs while a “Death Angel” impales me with one of its giant claws.
What about the rest of you? Is your cat a Frodo, a Bud or another sort entirely? Would you be dead as quickly as we would be, or do you think you could survive with your furry pal?
Vakuum, the terror of many a cat, was put on notice by Buddy’s display of astonishing bravery. If AI and robots ever try to take over the Earth, Buddy is a natural choice to lead the combined armies of cats and men to victory over the machines.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat was particularly pleased with himself on Thursday after he successfully scared off one of his mortal enemies by using his powerful roar.
The gray tabby cat had just finished his second Food O’Clock meal of the day and was settling down for 5th Nap when the infernal machine known as Vakuum the Disturberizer encroached upon the Buddesian domicile and began its high-pitched shriek.
While previously he’d hiss at the accursed machine and retreat to the safety of the bedroom, Buddy decided to put his paw down, sources said. It was time to make a stand.
Rising up to his full height of almost a foot, Buddy let loose a mighty, blood-curdling roar — and was shocked when Vakuum immediately stopped making its pestiferous racket.
“That machine took one look at me and decided it didn’t want a piece of this,” Buddy said, his primordial pouch jiggling as he flexed. “It helps to be a meowscular and intimidating cat, you know. We jaguars are quite ferocious when we need to be.”
A spokescat for the Yguara Nation of the Americas confirmed that while Buddy is an honorary jaguar and was bestowed the name Kinich Bajo, meaning “Tiny Sun-Eyed One,” he is not in fact an actual jaguar.
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
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.
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.”
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.”
Pain In The Bud 