Category: cat stories

Buddy Becomes Old Italian Guy After Binging Sopranos

“Marone, I get up three, four times a night to go to the bathroom!” Buddy says.

NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat approached his dining nook, took an exploratory sniff of the wet food in his bowl and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Ugh! Marone!” the exasperated cat said. “This salmon smells terrible! What does it take to get a bowl of fresh gabagool around here, huh? Is it too much to ask for a nice chicken cutlet or some soppressat?”

The silver tabby has been arbitrarily dropping vowels from his words, peppering his meows with corruptions of southern Italian slang and complaining about his food more than usual after binge-watching the first two seasons of The Sopranos with his human, sources said.

“You’re bustin’ my balls over here,” Buddy meowed to his human, expressing sudden displeasure with cat food he’s been eating for years.

Witnesses reported odd changes in Buddy’s behavior over the holidays when he began watching episodes of HBO’s classic, but it wasn’t until he completed the second season that the mercurial cat built his own bocce court and began wearing a pinky ring on his front right paw.

A gold chain in place of a collar and a newsboy-style flat cap completed the look.

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“Me and the boys, we like to hang out at Satriale’s and the Bada Bing in Jersey,” Buddy explained. “Though if you ask me, they got too many of them human broads at the Bing. It ain’t gonna kill ’em to mix it up a little with a Calico now and then.”

The previously non-Italian feline has been running in new circles as well, sources said, and has been frequently seen in the passenger seat of a Lincoln Town Car owned by Fat Vito Catterelli, as well as an I-ROC Z28 owned by Dino Felinzano.

Fat Vito the Cat
Fat Vito and his human, Giana.

His human, Big Buddy, said that things had “gone too far” when he arrived home one day to find Buddy with his feet up on the dinner table, a copy of the New York Post in his paws, and a radio playing WFAN’s Mike and the Mad Dog, who were arguing about Mike Piazza.

“Hey, Grande Compagno!” the cat said, eyeing his human over the newspaper. “How about a little melted mootsarell on top of my chicken tonight, eh? A little sauce. A chicken parm pâté, if you will.”

Told he wasn’t going to get “chicken parm pâté,” Buddy seemed unperturbed.

“Okay then, the galamad,” he said, nonchalantly flipping to the sports section.

“Do you even know what ‘galamad’ is, you little clown?” Big Buddy asked.

Buddy stopped flipping the pages of the Post, pausing with the newspaper as a shield over his eyes.

“It’s, uh, some kind of…pork. Yeah! Pork, obviously,” the flustered cat said. “From Arthur Ave.”

“It’s fried squid, dummy! You’re not gonna eat fried squid!”

Buddy shrugged and went back to flipping the pages.

“Then I guess,” he said, “you’ll have to make the chicken parm.”

Sunday Cats: White House Welcomes Willow

Willow is the first presidential cat since the Bush family’s black shorthair, India.

Willow’s in the White House!

First Lady Jill Biden promised a cat would reside at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue as a presidential pet during her husband’s administration, and a year after President Joe Biden was sworn in, Willow the cat has joined the First Family in Washington.

Willow is a gray tabby who got Jill Biden’s attention in a very cat-like way: She invited herself onstage while the First Lady was giving a campaign speech for her husband on a Pennsylvania farm in 2020.

A campaign official later called the farm’s owner, Rick Telesz, and asked if the Bidens could adopt the friendly moggie. Willow is two years old and is the first presidential cat since India, a black American Shorthair who belonged to former President George W. Bush’s daughters, Barbara and Jenna. India lived to the ripe old age of 18, outliving Bush’s two terms as president.

India was named after a Major League Baseball player, not the country. Credit: The White House
India, the Bush family’s cat, didn’t look too thrilled to be part of a Halloween event hosted by then-First Lady Laura Bush. Credit: The White House

The Bidens had another cat lined up, but delayed the cat’s arrival because their dog, Major, wasn’t adjusting well to the White House and was known for biting staff and Secret Service agents. Major’s been sent back to the family home in Delaware, but in the meantime the cat the Bidens were going to adopt got attached to its foster family and became a foster fail.

Willow seems to be doing just fine. Michael Larosa, the First Lady’s press secretary, told reporters Willow has been “settling into the White House with her favorite toys, treats, and plenty of room to smell and explore.”

She’ll be doing a lot of exploring — there are 132 rooms in the White House, and most former presidential cats were given the run of the executive residence as well as the West Wing. Socks, President Bill Clinton’s cat, had access to the Oval Office and was sometimes spotted in the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room, even choosing the famous podium for a lounging spot once.

Willow’s already found sunny lounging spots in her new home. Credit: The White House
Willow’s been making herself at home since she arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Credit: The White House

Cats have a long and distinguished history in the White House, from the incredible fame of Socks to Abraham Lincoln’s Dixie and Tabby. Lincoln once called the former “smarter than my whole Cabinet,” while he often embarrassed his wife by feeding the latter from the White House dinner table. Click here to read our post from last year detailing the lives and adventures of presidential cats.

Socks photographed in the president’s chair in the Oval Office. Credit: The White House
Unlike India, Socks wasn’t forced to wear a costume while helping out with holiday events. Credit: The White House

‘Don’t Let Anyone Tell You That Cats Don’t Bond, That Cats Don’t Love.’

A man writes a stirring tribute to his beloved cat.

We take a break from our usual inanity, humor and Buddy’s mind-bogglingly terrible advice column to call your attention to this beautiful tribute to a special cat.

Tom Wrobleski, an opinion writer for the Staten Island Advance, said a tearful goodbye to his cat, Malkovich, on Jan. 11. 

“I’ve cried more for that cat over the last three weeks than I have over some people that I’ve lost in my life,” he writes.

Tom says Malkovich was supposed to be his kids’ cat, but ended up bonding with him:

Mal would meet me at the door when I came home, flopping down and giving me his belly. He followed me into the bathroom. He curled up next to me in bed. He would flop in the hallway upstairs and rub his face on my foot.

Don’t let anyone tell you that cats don’t bond, that cats don’t love, that cats are stand-offish. Mal loved me. And I loved him. He was my buddy. My best boy. The top cat.

He became part of the fabric of our lives. He even grudgingly tolerated Lucy, the neighborhood stray we adopted in 2017.

Mal’s illness snuck up on Wrobleski, as so many cat health problems do because our furry friends are so stoic.

“We thought that Mal was getting a little chubby in recent months. It turns out that he was ill, with fluid gathering in his abdomen,” he wrote. “The news from the vet was dire: Mal had cancer throughout his body. There wasn’t a lot we could do.”

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The author’s favorite photo of Malkovich the cat. Credit: Tom Wrobleski

The rest of it is really sad and would have made Buddy and I cry if we weren’t so manly and tough. Wrobleski writes about how much he misses Mal, and how much Mal changed his life during the 11 years he was a part of the family. (They adopted the little guy when he was four years old, and he lived until he was 15.)

His pain at losing the little guy is evident in every word and anecdote.

Be warned, though, that if you’re not as tough as Buddy and I, you probably will shed some tears, which Buddy and I definitely did not do. In fact, immediately after reading Wrobleski’s tribute to Malkovich, Bud and I watched a football game, drank Budweiser and shopped for a good old American pick-up truck while practicing our Sam Elliot voices.

 

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Malkovich on the day he was adopted. Credit: Tom Wrobleski

 

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Malkovich on his last day, sitting in one of his favorite spots and soaking up the sun for the last time. Credit: Tom Wrobleski

 

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“I don’t cry about anything…except vacuums, rustling paper bags, truck back-up beepers, dinner, and being locked out of the bathroom. But other than that, I’m fearless and keep a firm leash on my emotions!”

‘My Grandfather’s Cat’ Finds Future Homes For Pets of Seniors And The Terminally Ill

A non-profit helps terminally ill and elderly clients find future homes for their beloved cats so they don’t end up in shelters.

Buddy has a dirty little secret: He’s a biter and scratcher.

The little guy has improved dramatically over the past few years and it’s something we actively work on, but he occasionally has his moments when he gets freaked out and indiscriminately lashes out, or gets frustrated and redirects his flood of emotion on the nearest person, which is almost always me.

I love the little dude anyway, I can anticipate his moments of overstimulation or freak-outs, and I know how to calm him down.

But I also know that, if anything were to happen to me and Buddy ended up in the shelter system, he probably wouldn’t make it out. He’s even more likely to lash out in a scary, unfamiliar situation, and cats who bite and scratch are usually deemed unadoptable and put on the express route to the needle.

That’s why I made my relatives promise that, if I get hit by a bus or something, one of them has to adopt Bud, give him a loving home, and treat him as an extension of me.

Not everyone has that luxury, especially the elderly and the terminally ill. That’s why Angela Rafuse, a 27-year-old from Novia Scotia, founded My Grandfather’s Cat.

Rafuse’s grandfather had recently lost his wife of almost 60 years and had his own health problems that demanded urgent attention, but he resisted going to the hospital because he didn’t want to leave his wife’s cat, Mackenzie, alone.

“That cat was all he had left of my grandmother, and he didn’t want Mackenize to end up in a shelter,” Rafuse told People.

Rafuse with Mackenzie. Credit: My Grandfather’s Cat

When her grandfather passed away in 2019, Rafuse adopted Mackenzie. When she posted a video of the quirky cat to TikTok, the resulting discussion in the comments led to the realization that lots of people have been in similar situations, with relatives whose illnesses were compounded by worry about what will happen to their beloved pets when they’re gone.

“We heard stories from people who had to put their grandparents’ pets into shelters after they passed because there wasn’t a family member to adopt them,” Rafuse told blogTO, a local news site focused on Toronto.

My Grandfather’s Cat works “to keep the animal with their human up until the very last day and provide the comfort of knowing a loving family will adopt their pet when the time comes,” according to the non-profit’s site.

Refuse and volunteers work with people who are terminally ill, seniors who are forced to move into housing situations that don’t allow pets and other situations, and helps them find loving homes for their pets. Knowing their cats and dogs will be taken care of after they’re gone grants peace of mind to people who are already dealing with major life changes or their own mortality.

The group relies entirely on donations and doesn’t charge clients or adopters. My Grandfather’s Cat offers its services to all Canadian regions, and Rafuse said she hopes to expand to the US.

“It is the most rewarding thing in the entire world to be doing this,” she said, “and I know my grandfather would be proud.”

Breastfeeding A Cat On An Airplane Pt. III

“She’s not showing you her baby because it’s a cat. A feline! A house pet!”

I’m just going to present this here without comment, because nothing I can say can possibly make this any better than it is. If you’re unfamiliar with the original saga of breastfeeding cats at 40,000 feet, read our previous post here.

Watch the four parts from top to bottom in order:

And to think, I was ready to write another post about how Americans are all going crazy on planes. 🙂