Rita Vigovszky captures the essence of cats with her whimsical illustrations.
Rita Vigovszky knows cats.
The Budapest woman, who earns a living as an illustrator, often puts her own cat in her drawings to illustrate confounding and amusing feline behaviors, but she also draws various cats in silly and amusing situations.
Who among us doesn’t sympathize with this? I can give Bud two vigorous play sessions with laser pointers and wand toys, and he’ll still reliably do this at night:
As George Carlin once said: “Cats don’t accept blame.” They also have no shame. At this point, probably every surface except the kitchen counters has been “groomed on.”
Prior to 2020, I would not have sympathized with this. Then the pandemic happened, barbershops in New York were closed for ages, I binged the entire run of Vikings during lockdown, and when I finally made it back to my barber, told him: “Give me that awesome Ragnar Lothbrok haircut!” So now I have a viking man bun (go ahead, laugh at me) with shaved sides and back, and Bud has many new hair band toys that tend to disappear under couches and in crevices:
Cats and humans began their grand partnership some 10,000 years ago, when kitties handled humans’ pesky rodent problem and people repaid the felines with food, shelter and companionship.
Now the deal’s off, apparently.
Yesterday a Reddit user shared a video titled “When you get a cat hoping it will help you get rid of the big rat in your yard.”
The video shows the user’s new cat, a tortoiseshell/calico, “solving” the rat problem by befriending the rodent, playing with it and even grooming it.
The video has amassed almost 86,000 upvotes in 24 hours.
The odd friendship between feline and rodent is not without precedent. Studies have shown that cats are not effective rodent hunters in urban settings where rats have gone unchallenged for so long that they rival or exceed the size of most members of Felis catus.
In certain neighborhoods of New York City, for example, researchers observed cats essentially ignoring massive rats and in some cases eating trash side by side with them. The largest rats, apparently aware of the truce, are equally unconcerned by the presence of the cats. Other rats were more cautious around kitties.
The scene reminded me of the time my brother wanted me to bring Bud over to handle his rat problem. At the time he was living on 88th St. in Manhattan, less than a block from Gracie Mansion. His apartment had an unusual perk for Manhattan living — it was a spacious ground floor flat that opened up into a private, fenced-in backyard with grass and a few trees.
Tremble before him! Buddy the Mighty Slayer of Rodents!
In fact, it was one of the first places I took Buddy after adopting him. He was just a kitten, maybe 14 weeks old, and I brought him with me on a warm summer day when my brother had a few friends over for a barbecue.
Buddy made fast friends with my brother’s Chihuahua-terrier mix, Cosmo, and spent the day playing with his doggie cousin, frolicking in the grass and chasing bugs around the yard. Then he got a treat: Steak from the grill, chopped into tiny Buddy-size pieces.
Having a backyard in Manhattan was awesome, but there was a downside. At night the yard was like a stretch of highway for marauding rats who ran across it in numbers with impunity, probably en route to raiding the garbage bins of a bodega on the corner of 88th. The rats were so emboldened and so numerous, you could hear them scurrying across the yard at night.
My brother proposed bringing Buddy over and letting him loose in the yard after dark, letting his claws and predatorial instincts thin the rodential herd.
I declined, using the excuse that Bud could pick up diseases from going to war with the rats. That was true, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have come to that: At the first sign of those rats, Buddy would have run screaming!
(We don’t acknowledge that around him, of course. Officially, Buddy was not set loose upon the Manhattan rats because it would be grossly unfair to unleash such a meowscular, brave and battle-hardened feline warrior upon them.)
It’s one thing if Buddy won’t kill rats. He’s a wimp. But as the Reddit video illustrates, we are apparently closing the chapter on 10,000 glorious years of human-feline partnership, and officially entering the Era of Zero Reciprocity.
We do everything for our cats, and in return they nap, eat and allow us to serve them. From their point of view, it’s a fine deal.
Just look at those meowscular guns and vicious claws!
Buddy finds success as a magician who makes all manner of delicious foods disappear.
NEW YORK — A thousand people are engaged in lively chatter inside the 42nd St. Illusionist Theatre when a tiny figure appears at the periphery of the stage and a hush falls over the crowd.
The lights dim and a drum roll echoes up from the orchestra pit.
“Is it him?” a man in the balcony asks.
“It’s him! It’s him!” a woman seated near the front answers, waving her handkerchief. “The Great Buddini!”
The crowd erupts into rapturous applause and the orchestra plays an excitingly mysterious tune as the Great Buddini pads across the stage, illuminated by a green spotlight.
“Thank you! Thank you!” the tuxedoed feline says, doffing his top hat. He touches a paw to his heart. “You’re too kind! Thank you!”
A whimsical melody drifts up from the pit and the Great Buddini produces a bag of Blue Buffalo Bursts from a pocket in his tuxedo. He presents it to the crowd, turns it over and tears it open theatrically.
“For my first trick, I’m going to make these Bursts disappear,” Buddini says, tossing the treats into the air and gobbling them all in quick succession.
The crowd loves it. Women clap, men stomp their feet and enthusiasts near the back whistle in appreciation.
An advertisement for one of The Great Buddini’s shows.
“For my next trick,” Buddini says, “I’m going to make this entire turkey disappear!”
Two calicoes in bedazzled gowns emerge from behind the curtain, pushing a cart with a large turkey on top of it. They turn the cart 360 degrees, lift the black table cloth so the audience can see there are no hidden compartments, and stop just before the Great Buddini launches himself at the turkey and consumes it like an insane Pac Man, wolfing the entire bird down in less than eight seconds.
A drum roll begins anew, the Great Buddini turns, bows with a flourish and issues a massive belch that reverberates around the hall. Once again the theater shakes with the roaring approval of the crowd.
“He’s a genius!” a woman yells out later as Buddini, balanced on stilts, makes pieces of cheese vanish into his mouth. “He’s mad! He’s mad!”
The Great Buddini’s show, in which the famed magician makes 17 different kinds of food disappear, has been sold out for more than three weeks running since he arrived in New York.
A review in the New York Times called Buddini “an unrivaled master of sleight of paw” and noted kittens from as far away as Delaware were arriving in New York, hoping to apprentice for the master feline. The New York Evening News was equally flattering, writing that the Great Buddini “blurs the line between ho-hum magic and astonishing feats that border on the supernatural.”
Among the few negative reviews was a scathing piece in the New York Post, which chided enthusiasts for “falling for” Buddini’s “obviously mundane tricks.”
“He’s not ‘making the food disappear,’ he’s just eating it!” the Post’s critic seethed. “Am I going crazy? I can’t be the only one to notice this. People are paying to watch a chubby cat pig out on snacks on a stage. What has the world come to?”
Denying the allegations against him, Buddy the Cat suggested a certain Aquaman actress was likely responsible.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat denied he had anything to do with an errant turd found approximately two feet from his litter box on Friday, instead blaming actress Amber Heard for the breach of poopiquette.
The stool in question, a roughly cylindrical piece consistent in color and texture with typical cat feces, was discovered at approximately 10:52 a.m.
“I am not the poopetrator,” a defiant Buddy said in a statement issued through his attorney. “It’s obvious that someone out there is hell bent on destroying my reputation as a good boy who always does his business in the box.”
The silver tabby’s lawyer, Johnny Clawchrane, told reporters he intends to prove his client could not have been responsible for the mystery stool. He said he would prove to the court that Buddy had an alibi, could not have produced the offending nugget, and has a long history establishing him as a consummate user of the litter box who never exits without meticulously burying his business.
“Buddy the Cat has a staunch record of being a very good boy and is personally offended at the suggestion that he could have been responsible,” Clawchrane said.
Instead, the high-powered attorney said, he intends to prove the offending party is none other than actress Amber Heard, who is currently embroiled in another lawsuit centered around the mysterious appearance of feces.
“Who was responsible? Let’s look at Occam’s Razor, folks,” Clawchrane said. “There is a very famous person whose modus pooperandi, such as it is, involves retaliatory defecation.”
Clawchrane pointed to testimony in the ongoing trial between actor Johnny Depp and Heard, his ex-wife. Depp and his house manager testified that Heard dropped anchor on the bed she shared with the Piratesof the Caribbean actor. Heard herself called it a “practical joke gone horribly wrong.”
“We will prove that Ms. Heard had the motivation and means to, uh, smear Buddy the Cat,” Clawchrane insisted. “Justice will be served!”
Heard’s attorney, Benjamin Rottenborn, said the accusation was “patently ridiculous.”
“My client doesn’t even know Buddy the Cat,” Rottenborn said. “Furthermore, just look at him. He looks like precisely the kind of scoundrel who would poop outside the litter box.”
Following in the scientific footsteps of Sir Isaac Newton, Buddy seeks to understand a fundamental force of reality.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat recorded the results of his 412,377th gravity experiment on Tuesday after successfully swatting his human’s smartphone off of a nightstand.
The silver tabby, who is a longtime enthusiast of experimentation with gravitational forces, said his most recent experiments were opportunistic.
“Usually my human secures his phone and his glasses before going to sleep, because he’s jealous of my scientific exploits and seeks to impede my progress,” Buddy explained. “But he must have been really tired the night before, because I noticed the glasses and phone were just sitting there unattended. They were calling out for me to swipe them onto the floor.”
It would have been rude not to take advantage, Buddy said.
The scientist: Buddy is committed to unlocking the mysteries of gravity.
Gravity experiment #412,377 went as predicted with the smartphone landing on the floor with a satisfying slap, the scholarly feline reported.
Gravity experiment #412,376 was equally successful, with an added bonus — the glasses ricocheted off the nearby wall and became wedged between the mattress and the wall.
“My human, Big Buddy, was very angry when he woke up and couldn’t find his glasses,” Buddy admitted. “It was fun watching him fumble around like he was blind. He came close a couple of times and I considered meowing to let him know he was getting warm, but decided it was crucial to the experiment to see how long it would take him to find them. After all, what is a scientist without his integrity?”
Buddy the Cat said he expects a Nobel Prize at some point in the future for his groundbreaking work.
“Gravity is remarkably consistent,” the feline scientist noted. “No matter how many times I swipe things off of flat surfaces, they always fall to the floor. But I haven’t even tried 500,000 times yet. I feel I need at least a million attempts to have a really robust dataset, and my experiment could benefit from more variety as well. Maybe I’ll try the TV next, or maybe the dishes in the kitchen cabinet. The possibilities are endless!”
Pain In The Bud 