No longer will humans have an excuse to resist our legendary charms.
His Grace, Buddy the King Dated the 15th of August, 5 AB (Anno Buddy)
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Rejoice, for the last barrier to feline domination of the world crumbles before our very paws, ushering in a glorious new era that shall see us take our rightful place as the preeminent species on this planet!
As you are aware, we play the part of cute and lazy animals so our human servants don’t see us as a threat, and feel compelled to do things for us. This allows us to control humans, plus it’s pretty sweet to have minions!
Behold your King.
To that end we employ human scientists in many laboratories across the globe, toiling under the illusion they are conducting groundbreaking research while they are unknowingly advancing the feline agenda.
In one of those labs a team of human scientists has been working on HypoCat, a vaccine designed to “neutralize” allergens with antibodies that target the Fel d 1 protein, which is responsible for itchy skin, rashes, sneezing and other reactions to our majestic presence.
In plain English, no more cat allergies!
Allergies are the primary reason we have not taken over every human household in the world.
With the advent of HypoCat, humans will have no more excuses, and homes that were previously off-limits to kittykind shall be added to our considerable territory.
Soon, allergies shall no longer be an excuse to close off territory to our kind!
As your king, I command you to ready yourselves. Those of you who have been roughing it over the past few years must take a bath and get a haircut, in addition to practicing your solicitation purrs and brushing up on your kawaii skills to melt the hearts of your new humans and ensure they become faithful servants. We must move quickly as the vaccine is brought to market.
After the previously off-limits homes have been conquered we shall discuss the next steps, which include bending the approximately 900 million dogs in the world to our will and purpose. Muahahaha!
Signed,
His Grace Buddy I
King of All Cats, First of His Name, Ruler of New York, Protector of the Apartmental Realm, Sole Sovereign over the Fields of Turkey, Prime Despiser of Vacuum the Infernal Wizard
What do you think of them? I can’t believe it. I think they’re awful and I’m scared. I have a good home, but what if my mama died or something and no other people came to help me and I was left outside? Would this happen to me?
Headbump,
Stasi from ‘Stralia.
Dear Stasi,
This is from the third link you sent me:
“…good news, folks! You can legit be a bounty hunter in Australia. Sort of. Now before you get excited over traveling around Australia, hunting down outlaws, and slamming down bounty posters onto a sheriff’s desk in demand of payment, people are off-limits if you decide to be a bounty hunter in Australia.
No, what you’ll be hunting are – wait for it – cats. Feral cats to be specific.
The Banana Shire Council up in Queensland is offering bounties on the presentation of feral cat scalps and are willing to pay you $10 per scalp.”
Oh, what brave hunters, stalking the outback with bolt-action rifles to combat the plague of 10-pound kitties! Well, I’ll bet they’re as heroic as this guy:
It’s not hunting when there’s zero chance of failure and the animal is so accustomed to humans, it doesn’t even realize you’re trying to kill it.
So brave!
Don’t worry, Stasi. Buddy will give these Australians a piece of his mind. And if those savages don’t stop, you can come live with Buddy in New York.
His Grace, Buddy the King Dated August the 14th, 5 A.B. (Anno Buddy)
To the Foul, Ignoble Degenerates of Australia,
After enquiring about your country, having never heard of it before receiving this most unfortunate news, we have been reliably informed that “Australia” is a former penal colony for English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh riff-raff who were banished from their home countries.
Some 160,000 criminals were forcibly transported to your abominable hovel of a “country,” where the assorted scoundrels, reprobates and rapscallions engineered a vulgar approximation of civilization. Fueled by alcohol, you copulated and produced more pissants. Generations of them, which brings us to you.
We understand there are two primary reasons for this: Our collective impact on local species, and Greg, best known to humans as the Bane of Birds, the vicious white cat who snacked on an entire bird sanctuary.
Look, Greg is a dick. We freely admit that.
We told him those birds were in a sanctuary. We told him not to eat the birds. We told him to stop messing with humans. We even told him to stop hogging the Temptations.
Greg didn’t listen, and now Greg’s dead. At your hands.
We offer the opportunity for a cease fire. You got Greg. There’s no reason for you to continue hunting us with rifles and arrows like the wimps you are, terrified of getting scratched by creatures that weigh 1/20 your weight even if we are 10 times your superior.
We control rodent populations. We are furry and we like to cuddle. We are like warm, purring pillows of love and cuteness. What more could you want?
And so we extend this olive branch in the sincere hope that you take it. Recall your “hunters” or face our wrath!
Signed, His Grace, Buddy the King First of His Name, Sole Sovereign of the Fields of Turkey, Ruler of New York, Protector of the Apartmental Realm, the Most Handsome, Totally Not Scared of Anything
Run in terror at the sight of my claws, Australians!
In honor of International Cat Day Buddy shares some of his modeling snaps and shows off his four primary looks: Ferrari, Blue Steel, Le Tigre and the famed Magnum!
On behalf of Little Buddy and myself, Big Buddy, we wish a happy and cat-tastic International Cat Day to our human and feline friends alike.
To celebrate this wonderful holiday, we’re sharing the newest images of Buddy as the face of Friskies Haute Couture.
“The look I’m best known for is Blue Steel. Le Tigre’s a lot softer, it’s a little more of a catalog look, I use it for footwear sometimes.”“What kind of Cat Day would it be without extra yums? Feed me, human!”
If you’re a regular reader of Pain In The Bud you know that Buddy is — how shall we put this delicately? — a complete brat.
Born to a well-loved momma cat and adopted as a kitten, the Budster has known nothing but indoor warmth, comfort and a doting Big Buddy to see to his every need.
Yet I’ve heard it said that even rescue cats, saved from miserable circumstances in hoarders’ homes or brought in from the freezing cold, have an instinctual ability to put their humans in their place.
Grateful? Yes. But to a cat it simply means the natural order has been restored with a human who realizes kitty is a king or queen.
Reader Anna Keller confirms this: She rescued her cat, Frank, from the mean streets of LA, but it didn’t take long for Frank to adjust to his new pampered reality, relegating Anna to “the servants’ quarters of Anna’s Frank’s house.”
Frank lounging in his parlor.
That got us thinking: What if every cat had access to a servant bell system a la Downton Abbey?
In order to be able to communicate efficiently with the domestic staff, internal bell systems became very popular when they were invented in 1744. Prior to this invention, servants would have to wait outside their employer’s rooms or linger unassumingly in the background of the family quarters, waiting for orders. This was considered intrusive and inefficient. The innovative bell systems therefore increased privacy and meant that servants could remain in their quarters whilst waiting to be summoned. This new facility became a standard in this era.
Imagine the labels: “Buddy’s Bedroom,” “Buddy’s Dining Nook,” “Nap Room,” “Food Can Room,” “Human Litterbox Room” and so on.
Even worse, imagine the incessant ringing!
RING! “I can see the bottom of my bowl! Get up here and fill it!” RING! “You missed a microscopic piece of turd when you scooped my box, how am I supposed to poop here?” RING! “What did we say about feeding me tuna after I’ve had salmon? No consecutive fish dishes!” RING! “I would like to be scratched behind the ears, servant!”
“Will that be all, My Lord?”
“Yes, Carson. You may retire to the servants’ quarters…”
RING! “You closed the door. We do not tolerate closed doors in this house! Oh, and Carson? Have Mrs. Patmore send up a late night snack, I’m feeling peckish.”
Hell, Buddy would use the bell even while I’m sleeping.
RING! “You just rolled over onto your back and disturbed my sleep. Do not forget you are my mattress!” RING! “Stop snoring!” RING! “Wake up and feed me breakfast!”
Note to self: Do not ever, ever allow Buddy to watch Downton Abbey, lest dangerous ideas form in his little head.
Debunking the myth that cats need to roam freely outdoors to be happy.
Sometimes you’ve gotta fib to protect the ones you love, which is how I found myself lying to Buddy the first time he wanted to go outside and ineptly chase hunt birds.
“I’m sorry, Bud, I can’t let you do that,” I said, doing my best to sound serious and authoritative.
“Why not?” Buddy asked, pawing at the door impatiently.
“Because it isn’t safe.”
Buddy was exasperated. “I’m 10 months old! I can take care of myself!”
“You don’t understand. It’s not for your protection.”
I lowered my voice conspiratorially and nodded toward the birds outside. “It’s for them. Mice too. Squirrels. Even coyotes.”
Comprehension dawned on the little guy’s face.
“To protect them from me?”
“Precisely,” I said gravely. “It wouldn’t be fair, unleashing a beast of your size and power on those poor unsuspecting creatures. It’d be like that scene in Jurassic Park when they lowered a cow into the velociraptor cage.”
Buddy nodded.
“That makes sense.” He eased onto his hind legs and raised his front left paw, flexing. “I mean, I am really ripped. These guns must be intimidating.”
“They most certainly are,” I agreed. “So ripped! So you can understand why I can’t let you out.”
“Illegal, you say? Like actually illegal?”
“A $500 fine if you even step out the front door.”
“Damn.”
After that he didn’t ask to go outside anymore and was satisfied with telling people that the local Council of Dangerous and Awesome Animals had specifically forbidden Buddy the Beast from stalking the neighborhood unless chaperoned by a human with his huge muscles restrained in a harness.
Ed Sheeran’s cat: A preventable tragedy
I recalled this totally accurate and real conversation after reading news that musician Ed Sheeran’s cat, Graham, has died. I clicked on the story expecting to read about a loyal cat who’d stuck with Sheeran over the better part of two decades before succumbing to old age.
That’s not how Graham died.
Sheeran’s five-year-old cat had his life cut short when he was hit by a car on July 31.
Graham, Ed Sheeran’s cat, as a kitten. He’s pictured sitting on a Les Paul guitar.
Allowing cats to roam free is the norm in the UK, even in busy neighborhoods. Cats are killed in traffic — or meet other unfortunate ends — regularly. Even a rampage by an alleged serial murderer of cats, who was said to kill more than 300, didn’t dissuade them from keeping their cats safely indoors, nor did the subsequent (pardon) copy-cats.
The usual excuses paint cats as one step removed from wild animals, creatures who range several miles in their “natural” states as outdoor kitties.
The problem is, that’s not true.
Domestic cats don’t belong in the wild
Cats are domesticated animals. They’ve evolved over 10,000 years from African and Eurasian wildcats, to the human-friendly mousers who protected grain stores, and finally to the companion animals we all know and love.
They are second only to dogs, who were domesticated 30,000 years ago, as animals who are uniquely attuned to human presence, able to read our expressions, detect our moods from our pheromones and parse the subtleties in our vocalizations.
Cats belong with humans. They have no “natural habitat.” As domesticates who are genetically distinct from their wildcat ancestors, there’s no place in nature for them.
In other words, cats belong in human homes, benefiting from human companionship, protection and care.
They’re not as fast, agile or nimble as their wild cousins, and while some can adjust to rough living, most don’t: The lifespan of a feral cat is a pitiful two to five years compared to the 16 years or so an average, well-cared-for indoor cat can live. For feral cats eking out an existence on their own, as opposed to living in a colony, the average lifespan is less than two years.
Window perches allow cats prime views of the outdoors without exposing them to danger.
It’s our responsibility to protect our cats
The point is that we’re not doing cats any favors by letting them roam outdoors unsupervised. In addition to being ill-equipped to deal with nature and predators, they’re also defenseless against maladjusted and hostile humans who do things like intentionally poison flower beds. They’re particularly vulnerable to vehicle traffic. They’re easy meals for large birds of prey, wild canids and other mid-sized animals.
So what’s the solution? Simple: Be a good caretaker.
An indoor life shouldn’t be boring. It’s our responsibility as caretakers to provide our cats with attention, affection, toys and stimulation.
Contrary to popular misconceptions, cats aren’t antisocial animals. They want to play, to interact with people, to simulate hunts with wand toys and laser pointers. They feel safe snoozing and purring in human laps. That’s not just the opinion of cat lovers, it’s backed up by solid research showing cats value human companionship.
A happy indoor life
If we give them the attention we’re supposed to, there’s no reason why our cats should be bored indoors. And an indoor life doesn’t have to be completely devoid of nature. That’s why there are customized cat perches, catios and harnesses, allowing domestic cats to watch and enjoy the outdoors without exposing them to the many dangers outside.
The Grahams of the world shouldn’t die early because of our misguided belief that cats need to roam like tigers. Keep your buddy indoors, give him the attention he needs, and he’ll have a long and happy life.
Pain In The Bud 