Is the human a bad influence on the cat, is the cat a bad influence on the human, or are they both just crazy?
NEW YORK — Big Buddy and Little Buddy experienced an awkward moment while watching a cat documentary which claimed feline personalities eventually come to resemble the dispositions of their humans.
The human and tabby were sitting on their couch, eating popcorn and laughing at their own farts when Holly Sikes, a cat behaviorist interviewed in the documentary, broke down the way people and their furry pals mirror each other.
“So, for example, if the cat is a lazy, egotistical jerk who’s always coming up with hare-brained schemes, he obviously learned that from someone,” the behaviorist said. “And that someone is the primary caretaker, the one with whom the cat spends most of his or her time.”
The Buddies looked at each other, shrugging.
“I once had a client whose cat, Quintus Lentilus Batiatus, was an absolute lunatic,” Sikes continued in the documentary. “And it turned out the owner was a LARPer who belonged to a group of wannabe Roman legionaries, which explained why little Quintus had declared war on the German family next door, labeling them ‘barbarians and savages who must be civilized under the banner of the Sacred Eagle.’ I’ve heard of cats styling themselves as Mongol conquerors, Spartan warriors and even kings of Joseon.”
Little Buddy stopped chewing, and with a mouth full of popcorn, turned to his Big Buddy.
“I’m, uh, not feeling this documentary, dude,” he said. “Let’s find something else to watch.”
“Agreed,” Big Buddy said.
The behaviorist continued to elaborate as Big Buddy searched for the remote.
“…and delusions of grandeur, particularly when it comes to fantasies about conquering the world, being famous, or even establishing ties with big cats like jaguars and tigers…”
Little Buddy’s voice was urgent.
“Where’s the remote, dude? Come on! Find it!”
“I’m trying! Where the heck is it?”
“…and we find that in cases where human and feline are closely bonded, they serve as enablers, with each convincing the other that their schemes are brilliant even when they’re gobsmackingly inane…”
Big Buddy grunted triumphantly.
“Found it!” he said.
Human and cat breathed a sigh of relief as the stream stopped.
“So what do you wanna watch next, Bud?” Big Buddy asked.
Little Buddy sat up and stretched.
“Actually, I was thinking of taking another nap and then working on my brilliant plan to intercept catnip shipments bound for pet stores.”
Big Buddy whistled.
“That is a brilliant plan, little guy,” he said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Little Buddy said proudly.
“Good call on the nap too. I’ll set my alarm for 90 minutes. Gotta get that beauty sleep…”
As of press time, the Buddies had settled on a scheme to intercept catnip and turkey bound for pet stores, which they both agreed was brilliantly conceived and guaranteed to work.
Los Gatos’ position in the illegal catnip market has become precarious in the wake of a federal raid and the arrest of a courier. Meanwhile, an old rival threatens to fill the power vacuum…
LOS GATOS, Calif. — Los Gatos, the premier purveyor of fine catnip and narcotics to the feline world, is looking for discreet, professional couriers following a recent setback in Costa Rica.
A Gatos courier was caught sneaking into Pococi Penitentiary on the night of May 22. The feline, a novice smuggler, was having difficulty navigating around a section of fence topped by razor wire when guards at the prison spotted and intercepted the kitty.
Correction officers captured the courier and found 2.4 ounces of crack-cocaine and eight ounces of marijuana wrapped tightly in plastic and taped to her body.
Under questioning, the narco feline admitted she was conducting a delivery for Los Gatos, creating legal troubles for the US-based nipcotics collective. It’s the biggest setback for Los Gatos since its 2022 war with another catnip cartel led to 14 cats getting sprayed in a drive-by urinating, an infamous incident known as the Tragedy of Tijuana.
Earlier this week, federal agents raided a Gatos compound, seizing an estimated $2.1 million in high-grade catnip and other nipcotics, the Drug Enforcement Agency said.
News footage showed several cats in handcuffs bundled into black SUVs while drug-sniffing dogs smirked.
“You’d better wipe that smirk off your face, holmes!” one Gatos lieutenant shouted at the canines, hissing out the words.
The raid and courier arrest have left Los Gatos with significantly less product — and fewer methods of delivery.
“The courier will be dealt with, as will those mangy mutts,” Los Gatos spokescat Pawblo Escobar said ominously. “In the meantime, we have customers who rely on us for timely deliveries of high-quality catnip and drugs, and Los Gatos has a reputation to uphold.”
Industry insiders say Buddy the Cat has been quick to fill the void. The longtime Gatos archrival reactivated long-dormant channels and has expanded his territory from his power base in New York.
“Buddy the Cat has the muscle, quite literally, to go paw to paw with Los Gatos and the other cartels,” said Felix Finch, a criminologist at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in Manhattan. “But obviously this isn’t a one-cat operation, which is why it’s fortuitous that Buddy has been establishing ties with the jaguars and forming a coalition with other big cats. Can Los Gatos withstand the combined might of Buddy and big cats? That’s the question on every feline’s mind right now.”
The mercurial tabby cat tried to convince Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth to bomb the Isle of Dogs, White House officials grudglingly acknowledged.
The controversy over leaked war plans expanded Monday after new reports revealed a journalist was not the only outsider added to a text group between senior members of the administration.
Buddy the Cat, a domestic tabby from New York, was also invited to the group and subsequently made privy to classified information, the White House acknowledged.
While Atlantic editor Jeffrey Goldberg observed the text conversation between senior members of the Trump administration without participating in the exchange, sources say Buddy the Cat tried to convince Pete Hegseth, the defense secretary, to bomb London’s Isle of Dogs.
In addition, White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt grudgingly acknowledged Buddy was able to convince Hegseth and Kristi Noem, the homeland security secretary, to send federal agents to the home of a cat named Smudge, describing him as “a gastronomic terrorist who hates America and will stop at nothing to claim all the snacks for himself.”
When administration officials denied knowing Buddy the Cat, social media users began unearthing dozens of photos of the feline associating with national leaders. No one knows how deep the conspiracy goes.
Initially White House officials denied the feline was given access to the text group, with Leavitt calling it “an egregious example of the fake news media inventing absurd stories,” but they were forced to acknowledge the veracity of the incident when confronted with copies of the exchange.
“Folks, we are cleared for go, CENTCOM has given us the green light for the fifth strike package,” Hegseth wrote. “F-18 launch imminent.”
“Are we just going to ignore the Isle of Dogs?” Buddy the Cat texted in response.
The text caused confusion, with several senior officials speculating on the sender’s identity.
“The contact says ‘BTC.’ Who the heck is this?” Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard asked.
“It’s [US Marine Corps] Gen. [Barrington T.] Caldwell,” replied Mike Waltz, the National Security Advisor. “Got to be.”
Noem also initially tried to distance herself from the scandal by claiming she didn’t know Buddy, but photographs soon emerged of the tabby cat lounging on the podium while she spoke at CPAC in 2003.
It’s not clear how senior White House officials were convinced by a cat that a London neighborhood was related to an Iran-backed Shia militia in Yemen, but an anonymous official credited Buddy the Cat for “being very convincing. We all thought he was the general.”
While the feline’s suggestion to bomb the London neighborhood was co-signed by Hegseth, it was ultimately rejected by CENTCOM, which noted the UK is an allied country and there was no indication “terrorist dogs” populated the London neighborhood.
More successful was Buddy the Cat’s suggestion to send a federal strike team to the home of Smudge, his archrival.
The chonky cat screeched his innocence after heavily armed and armored federal agents smashed the door down and found him mid-bowel movement in his litter box.
“1337et: Agents have located the CHONKY little jerk in his domicile, where they found fresh explosive materials in his litter box and a suspiciously well-stocked cupboard,” Buddy wrote to the Houthi PC Small Group.
“Congrats, general!” Waltz wrote, while Noem called the arrest “a major win for American freedom and security.”
Reporters, former military officers and intelligence officials criticized the leak, pointing out that if a cat could get access to highly sensitive war plans — and influence them in real time — America’s enemies could do the same. But White House officials pushed back on the criticism, saying it was overblown.
“So someone put a cat on a text chain,” Leavitt said, snapping at a reporter during a press briefing. “So what? You guys are, like, being so dramatic!”
Buddy’s back at it, trying to befriend big cats. Emboldened by his success with the tolerant and wise jaguars, the reckless tabby has his sights set on the savanna and its temperamental predators, the leopards. Can Buddy win the admiration of these notoriously dangerous felids, or will he end up as a light snack for a spotted cat?
VIRUNGA NATIONAL PARK, Democratic Republic of Congo — “What the heck is that?”
A leopardess raised her head in response to her mate’s question, gazing down from the sturdy limb of an acacia tree where she’d taken refuge from the scorching midday sun.
Two hundred yards ahead, a tiny gray cat was padding toward them, picking his way carefully around rocks and occasionally disappearing in the high grass.
“There’s nothin’ that a hundred men on Mars could ever do,” the little feline sang as he walked. “I bless the rains down in Africa! I bless the rains down in…”
The diminutive feline stopped near the base of the tree and looked up at the leopards.
The adult leopards were momentarily stunned until one of the cubs awoke from her nap, spotted Buddy and exclaimed: “Look, mommy, lunch!”
The small cat flashed a wide smile.
“That’s a great idea! I’ve already eaten, but you know what they say: a lunch a day barely keeps the rumbles at bay! I’m a three-lunch cat, myself. So what are we having?”
Another cub piped up.
“That’s not lunch, that’s a snack!” he told his sister.
“And what a cute little snack he is!” the female cub said, gracefully dropping from her napping spot in the tree.
Buddy’s eyes bulged.
“You’re…you’re talking about me?”
The male cub did a squeaky impression of a roar.
“Do you see any other single-serve snacks around?”
Buddy licked his lips, his effort to hide his fear betrayed by his rising hackles and tail, which now resembled a quivering spiked club.
“I…I…I am a cat,” he said in his best impression of an authoritative meow. “I’m practically your cousin!”
The female was just paces away now and moving too fast for Buddy’s liking as he backpedaled.
“The question is,” she said, “are you tasty like cousin Serval or cousin cheetah?”
Credit: RudiHulshof/iStock
Buddy changed tactics.
“This is an outrage! Not even the tigers tried to eat me! This is…this is, uh, catibalism!”
The cubs were circling him now.
“Mommy, can we have a snack?” the male cub called, looking back at his mother on the tree.
“As long as it doesn’t spoil your dinner later,” came the reply.
“It won’t, mamma!”
Buddy gulped.
The cubs closed the distance, ready to strike, and Buddy was babbling while pleading for his life when the earth itself shook.
Branches jolted and leaves dropped. A flock of birds nesting in a nearby tree took off, silhouettes etching ephemeral geometric patterns in the sky. In the distance, a baboon shrieked a warning to its troop.
The cubs went from aggressive to retreat in the span of an instant, and even their parents looked alarmed, taking off after their young.
Buddy watched them flee, wondering if he should bolt in another direction as something incomprehensibly gargantuan lumbered toward him, shaking the trees.
He’d emptied his bowels by the time a gigantic head poked through the foliage, followed by the rest of the colossal beast. It was gray-skinned, leathery and bizarre, unlike anything Buddy had ever seen.
“Giant space aliens!” he screamed, turning around and running right into a tree trunk.
“Ahhhhh! Don’t eat me!”
Buddy awoke in a sweat, his fur damp in the soupy, stifling heat.
An entire platoon of the peculiar beasts stood around him, their sizes ranging from 25 Buddies in mass to freakishly large individuals sporting pairs of prodigious teeth that looked like scimitars made of bone.
“Einstein’s awake,” one of them rumbled, and the rest turned from stuffing themselves with leaves to get a better look at the Liliputian animal before them.
“What is that thing?” one of them asked.
“It’s a fun-size cheetah!” one exclaimed confidently.
“No, it’s a baby Serval!” another said. “But the color’s all wrong.”
In the distance, a giraffe poked its head above the tree line, pausing to munch on the silky pink flowers of a mimosa tree.
Buddy was saved from hungry leopards by friendly giant space aliens!
Buddy cautiously pushed himself up on his paws. These aliens did not seem interested in eating him.
“Greetings,” he said. “I am a feline, a cat from planet Earth! What planet do you come from?”
There was a pause, then trumpeting, cacaphonic laughter.
“‘What planet are you from?'” one of the great beasts mimicked, sparking a second round of giggles that sounded like the trombone section of an orchestra, if someone had slipped the players psychedelics.
“We are elephants, and this is our home,” said the leader, a magnificent female. “And you, little one, are fortunate we happened by.”
Buddy puffed himself up.
“I think you mean the leopards were lucky,” he said, flexing his meowscles. “They didn’t want to tangle with these guns.”
The elephants chortled. “Can we keep him? He’s funny!”
The matriarch shook her massive head.
“He is far from home, and he should return before he runs into leopards again, or something worse,” she said.
Buddy looked unsure of himself.
“But I’m homies with the jaguars and the tigers! I thought…you know, I could be down with the leopards too. Us big cats gotta stick together, ya know? It’s hard out there for an apex predator. By the way, got any lunch?”
One of the elephants raised her trunk, pointing east toward a herd of intimidating horned beasts.
“Lunch,” she said. “Think you can take them?”
Buddy gulped.
“Go home, little one.”
Buddy’s version of events!
“So anyway,” Buddy said, addressing his human, “that’s how I impressed the leopards, and they made me their king. In fact, they bestowed the honorific ‘Paka mkubwa na mwenye misuli hodari,’ which means ‘great and mighty muscled cat’ in Swahili!”
“Sounds like you had quite an adventure! That’s impressive, Bud!” Big Buddy said.
“It is! It is!” Buddy said, nodding vigorously.
Big Buddy made a whistling sound.
“Was that before or after you peed yourself in terror?”
“What? I…no, I told you, they made me their king! Where did you hear this, this slander?”
Big Buddy reached for his iPad, pulling up images of a terrified Little Buddy running from leopard cubs on the savanna, Buddy running head-first into a tree, and Buddy cowering before a herd of elephants.
“A wildlife tour was nearby during your ‘coronation,’ but this is probably just a gray tabby who looks exactly like you and happened to be right where you were crowned,” he said. “Congratulations, Your Meowjesty!”
The behaviorist continued to elaborate as Big Buddy searched for the remote.
Pain In The Bud 