Lauded for its realism, Master Pawbine’s official portrait depicts the king in all his radiant glory, just like a photograph.
Regal in posture, handsome in countenance, luminous in presence. The Official Royal Portrait of Buddy depicts His Grace in his natural splendor, emitting radiant energy as he assumes a majestic pose.
Bend the knee and approach him humbly while bearing delicious treats, for that is how one curries favor with the king.
In my cat’s mind, biting is an acceptable form of communication.
I have eleven new scratches on my left arm.
They’ve all drawn blood, most notably a deep three-inch wound across my forearm that continues to bleed even after I washed it out and applied antibacterial cream.
That’s where my cat latched on in his determination to register his displeasure.
What could prompt such action? Was he terrified by something, reacting violently out of instinct? Did he lash out at me because I was abusive? Did I accidentally step on his tail?
Nope.
Buddy was angry because, while he has almost the entire run of the place, one room usually remains off-limits to him. A single room!
So tonight, after meowing and complaining, the little lunatic ran full speed into the living room and launched himself at me, latching onto my left arm and raking his claws against my skin. One second I’m reading, the next I’ve got nine or 10 pounds of angry cat doing an impression of a paper shredder on my arm.
I know it was a brat move because of his “I want it now!” whimper as he clawed me, and because he’s done the same thing many times. Without fail, it’s because he’s not getting something he wants.
There are phases. Bud could be a good boy for two months, the image of a well-behaved cat, then one day I won’t give him any more treats because he’s already had too many, and he’ll complain with his “But I want it now!” yowl as he’s biting down on my feet.
Or maybe he wants to go sit on the balcony, but I don’t let him go out because I’m leaving soon and I can’t just leave him unsupervised on a balcony only 18 feet from the ground.
And sometimes it’s just because Bud sees I’m getting ready for bed, and he doesn’t want to go to sleep, so he launches himself at me with claws extended and teeth ready to chomp down.
Over the years I’ve had a few girlfriends tell me I’d be a great dad. Stupidly, I believed them. Now I’m not so sure. If my cat is a legendary brat, thanks in part to his disposition but mostly because I dote on him, what chance would my kids have?
Well, it’s half to dinner o’clock. I’d better get on that quick, or Mr. Scratchalot is going to give me matching tattoos on my other arm.
This may be all the weird you can handle today.
This is apparently the work of road safety experts who collaborated with animal psychologists, and not a Jackson Galaxy fever dream after half a pint of absinthe.
Naturally, it was made in Japan.
The animal psychologists are from Kyoto University and the traffic safety experts are from Yellow Hat, which is kind of like the Japanese version of AutoZone. The video’s makers say their feline “narrator” was chosen because other cats responded most to his voice during tests, and both the sound and visuals were designed to draw — and keep — feline attention.
Okay then.
Buddy evaluates cat costumes so your kitty doesn’t have to suffer the indignity.
The past few days saw the publication of not one, but two near-identical clickbait lists of the “best” Halloween costumes for cats.
In August.
Yay for cheap sponsored posts, aka undisclosed advertising!
So in the spirit of Pain In The Bud, we’ll take cat costumes from each of those lists and run them by Buddy to learn what His Grace thinks of them, along with the retributive measures he’d take if I forced him to wear the costume.
Pizza Slice Pet Suit – 0/10
Buddy’s verdict: “It doesn’t even look like a pizza, and the toppings are all wrong. Who puts mushrooms and black olives on a pepperoni pie? I would poop in your shoe if you made me wear this.”
Princess Leia Buns Cat Costume – 0/10
Buddy’s verdict: “I’d straight up murder you in a way so creative I haven’t even thought of it yet. Don’t even think about it.”
Peacock Cat Costume – 0/10
Buddy’s verdict: “Why are humans obsessed with making us look like other animals? Would you want to be a peacock? I’d bite you and refuse to let go until you’re cured of any urge to peacock me.”
Wizard Hat for Cats – 6/10
Buddy’s verdict: “I put on my robe and wizard hat. This one’s actually not bad. It would make me look mysterious! I’ve always wanted to be a wizard with the power to open fridges and tin cans. Does it come in red?”
Red Riding Hood Cat Costume – 0/10
Buddy’s verdict: “Over the river and through the woods, to smother you in your sleep we go! Did you know humans can be ‘fixed’ too? I just read about it. Fascinating!”
Donald Trump Cat Costume – 3/10
Buddy’s verdict: “Suddenly I feel the urge to tweet. This is the number one cat costume in the world, okay folks? It really is terrific. Tremendous. The best costume you’ll ever see, okay? Just don’t make me wear it. If you’ve got a ginger tabby, though…”
Turkey Drumsticks Cat Costume – 7/10
Buddy’s verdict: “Okay, credit for the idea. Whoever made this costume knows the way to a Buddy’s heart. But it’s like bringing me up to the Thanksgiving table, allowing me to take a deep sniff of the magnificent bird, and then snatching me away from that turkey goodness before I can take a bite. A tease. Unless it comes with actual turkey, it’s a no-go.”
King Cat Costume – 7/10
Buddy’s verdict: “I feel like the intent was pure, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired. Not quite regal enough for me, is it? Your punishment would be to find something appropriately majestic for me, although I’m sure that would feel more like a privilege.”
Legendary Kitty Hero Akitties Cat Costume – 10/10
Buddy’s verdict: “I look badass, don’t I?”
We’s gotta consult with the catsigliere.
Oh, hey. That’s a real nice pantry you got there, kid.
Marone! Look at this! Only six months old and living the high life on that Blue Buffalo. Chicken, turkey, salmon, beef, tuna, duck. Hey Fat Vinnie, they got duck!
Fat Vinnie loves duck.
So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay? Youse guys need protection from the rats. Vicious little sons a bitches, them rats are. But we got the muscle, okay? We’ll take care of the problem for you for a little quid pro quo from the pantry, if you know what I mean.
Capisce?
Six cans a week. We’re lettin’ you off light. We take Mr. Bubbles down the street for everything he has, ’cause we’s don’t like wimpy little pedigree cats thinkin’ they’re all special, do we Vinnie?
No we don’t, boss. No we don’t.
Now we keep this arrangement quiet between youse and us, okay? It would be a shame if that owner of yours came home one day to find shit in all her shoes and blamed you, wouldn’t it? You don’t want that. That’s a one-way trip to the shelter, my friend.
I been to the big house. Scrawny little kittens like you ain’t got a shot there.
Six cans, every Sunday. Next week we’ll take a look in that fridge of yours and if you got any gabagool or galamad, we’ll help ourselves to that too. For protection. Oh, and make sure you put some duck on the side for Vinnie here. He gets upset if he ain’t got no duck, and Mr. Bubbles don’t stock none.
See ya next week, kid.
Pain In The Bud 