The tabby unleashed his inner big cat through the power of ultraprocessed cheese product snacks.
NEW YORK – Declaring he was “tired of waiting for [his] growth spurt” and insistent that he is in fact a tiger, Buddy the Cat took matters into his own paws on Saturday and turned himself orange.
“I already have the stripes, okay,” he explained. “I just don’t have the color. And obviously I have to get just a little bit bigger.”
Confident that his current routine of napping and pretending to lift weights would yield gains in the latter department, Buddy waited until his human was gone, then popped open a bag of Cheetos using a claw.
“My first dilemma was whether to use puffs or classic Cheetos,” Buddy said. “The puffs are easier to grind into dust, but the classic Cheetos have more of that orange cheesy goodness. Either way, I got to lick the fake cheese off my paws, which was delicious.”
The often-scheming tabby cat emptied the bag on the kitchen floor, then spent almost a half hour rolling around to grind the Cheetos into dust and embed the crucial orange color in his fur.
Now a tiger!
When he was done, he admired himself in the mirror, deciding he was a dead ringer for a tiger, then chose a spot to lay in wait for his human for a planned ambush.
“He’s gonna see a tiger coming at him and he’s gonna have to bribe me with so much food so I don’t eat him!” Buddy said gleefully. “It’s gonna be great.”
To the delight of onlookers, the mercurial feline emerged to wave a paw and deliver a speech to a crowd on a neighborhood cat tour.
NEW YORK – After cheers of “Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!” rang out for more than a minute, the tabby cat ventured outside to his balcony and greeted the crowd to deafening cheers.
An expectant hush fell over the onlookers as Buddy the Cat climbed onto a platform. Then his little head poked over the railing, followed by his shoulders, and he extended his front paws before waving to the people below like a pope in St. Peter’s Square.
“Meow!” he said, and the crowd roared its approval.
The crowd wasn’t random. It was part of a pre-planned and scheduled tour of neighborhood cats in lower Westchester County, a suburb which directly borders New York City to the north.
“The absolute hightlight of today’s cat tour,” was the way Nadia Petrova, 27, summed up catching a glimpse of Buddy.
Her friend, Elena Mirazova, 25, nodded in agreement.
“Buddy is such cute cat,” said the Russian, who traveled to New York from Moscow with her friend to visit New York and meet its famous felines.
Brandon Williams, the 53-year-old tour organizer, said Buddy was the tour’s most popular feline of the more than four dozen window cats who can be seen on the 90-minute walking tour through the leafy northern suburb.
“It’s not just his incredible good looks or his inimitable charm,” Williams said. “Buddy is magnetic. He lights up a room…or a parking lot. He’s also the only one who gives speeches.”
Indeed, Buddy delivered a 15-minute speech about the awesomeness of domestic felines, the importance of recognizing that awesomeness, and the tastiest attributes of various meals and snacks.
Then he lowered a bucket, which his admirers filled with treats crunchy and soft, as well as cans of turkey pate from virtually every pet food brand known to man.
Ai Imajo of Osaka gifted the beloved feline a variety pack of Japanese cat food, including Tofu Umami Turkey Mix, Super Ultra Perfection Fried Turkey and Squid, and Barbecue Potato Chip Turkey Chunks. As a result of her thoughtful gifts, which took Buddy’s favorite foods into consideration, the popular feline invited her up to his balcony.
“I felt like Courtney Cox getting plucked out of a crowd to dance with Bruce Springsteen,” Imajo said of the famous incident in 1984, which launched Springsteen’s Born In The U.S.A. Tour and Cox’s career as a model and actress. “But of course Buddy’s better than Springsteen.”
Big Buddy has cat scratch fever and Little Buddy’s reputation has been besmirched!
So I’ve got cat scratch fever from a nasty Bud-inflicted cut on my right foot.
I take full responsibility. I woke a few nights ago to Bud mmmmmmrrrrrp-ing and realized I’d been acting out my dreams and had kicked him. Of course I felt terrible, apologized with some gentle head scratches and he forgave me in a few seconds because he knows it wasn’t intentional.
And because it’s happened two or three times before. There’s something wrong with whichever brain mechanism regulates my motor function shutdown, and it goes both ways, from terrifying bouts of sleep paralysis to the aforementioned acting out of dreams.
I fell asleep again after the unfortunate kicking incident, then realized Bud had already paid me back earlier with a skin-shredding, blood-drawing scratch on the top of the offending foot, when I woke up scratching the painful and itchy cut.
I applied antibiotic ointment and have continued to do so, but my foot’s swollen and I feel a little funky. Health sites advise watching it closely and if redness spreads out, or if it’s accompanied by certain other symptoms, I should seek medical attention.
So far I’m okay.
Buddy gazes upon his meowgnificent reflection.
In the meantime this has not helped Bud’s reputation with people in my immediate orbit, including my family.
As regular readers know, Bud has an unfortunate habit of engaging in some light mauling of his cat-sitters. My friend Sue, who has my eternal gratitude for watching him many times, will no longer play with him or interact with him. She slips in, presumably with armor and a heavy oaken shield, then feeds him and makes a rapid egress.
Anyway, Bud has been dubbed “the most unaffectionate cat in the world” because of his hostility toward cat-sitters and his quick-to-the-draw paw-slapping tendencies. It hasn’t helped that other people I know have adopted cats who’ve turned out to be perfectly behaved, grateful, sweet little furballs who don’t slap people for petting them too long.
Which I think is a bit unfair considering Bud’s a very friendly cat while I am present and the majority of retaliatory slappings by Bud have occurred when people unfamiliar with feline interaction etiquette try to pet him as if he’s a dog. He gets overstimulated easily, has a low tolerance for repeated petting in the same area, and does not play nice if anyone goes for his belly or tries to pick him up.
That’s just his personality. He’s absolutely affectionate and can be a little love bug with me. He loves my brother. He’s cool with my nieces even though he knows they’re kids and can be a bit unpredictable. Of course I don’t pick him up unless absolutely necessary, I don’t rub his tummy and I know the signs when he’s close to overstimulation. There’s also years of trust between us, and I’ve been told I am an adequate servant.
I’ll be keeping a close eye on my swollen foot and jokingly told Bud I’m going to defenestrate him if I have to go to the emergency clinic, which is fine because he doesn’t know what that means! (And of course I would do no such thing. My little Buddy is an absolute angel, even when the claws come out. Obviously.)
Imagine using a version of Google translate that can only translate every seventh or eighth word without context or tone. Would it be useful at all?
When my cat wants to play he faces me directly, at my level if possible, and leans forward, whiskers relaxed, before screeching at me at loud volume.
When he wants food he doesn’t bother with being level with me. He assumes an aggressive posture, follows me around and tries to get in my path, all before screeching at me at loud volume.
When yums are impending, he also screeches at loud volume, but his face and body language take on an anticipatory posture, and his tail pops straight up.
When he’s not feeling well, he screeches at loud volume and assumes a hunched stance, whiskers pulled back, ears at different angles, often with his tail wrapped protectively around his little body in a sort of uncomfortable version of the classic loaf.
The common element is the loud screeching. An AI-powered app would have a very difficult time telling the difference between a “Feed me now, human!” screech and a “I want to play wand toy hunting games now, human!” screech, and probably wouldn’t fare much better with the “I don’t feel so good” screech. (MeowTalk did, after all, try to convince me that Buddy was serenading me with sweet nothings when he was demanding food.)
Years ago I was bullish about AI’s ability to translate meows. Given enough data, I reasoned, AI could crack the code. But that was a human way of thinking, anthropomorphizing my Bud into a furry little human whose “language” was limited to vocalizations.
It’s not.
No cat limits their communication to meows, trills and chirps, not even a vocal little dude like my Buddy.
Cat communication is multi-modal, consisting of general body language, whisker position, ear position, tail position and movement, pupil expression, fur rigidity, gait, scent-marking, scent-sharing, and for our exclusive benefit, meows. The latter are essentially a second language to them, adopted out of necessity because they realize we respond to vocalizations but are mostly oblivious to everything their tails, whiskers, fur, ears, tails, pheromones and eyes are telling us.
Now who’s supposed to be the intelligent species?
“Dude, why are you so dense? I’m shouting at you with my whiskers, my tail and my meows!”
The fact that feline communication is inherently multi-modal is the reason why talking boards and AI meow translation apps do not work. It’s like using a version of Google translate that only interprets every seventh or eighth word, stripped of all context and tone. Actually, it’s worse than that.
If you’ve spent any time on Facebook, TikTok or Youtube, chances are you’ve come across cat talking boards. They’re even more useless than the AI apps that claim to translate meows because they not only assume feline communication is a single-channel affair, they also place additional burdens on felines, like understanding human language syntax (something no animal has ever been able to do) and highly abstract concepts.
How does a cat know a question is a request for information?
How does a cat understand temporal concepts represented as abstract sounds with nothing that ties those sounds – and the buttons that correspond to them – to concepts like “yesterday,” “tomorrow” and “later”?
Hmmm, something’s off here…
In one video I viewed, a woman convinced herself that her cat’s random slapping of talking board buttons meant he wanted to discuss an animal he’d possibly seen outside a window the night before. The number of assumptions and logical leaps required to arrive at that kind of conclusion is staggering.
I want to be clear that I’m not saying studying animal communication is a futile effort. On the contrary, everything we’ve learned indicates animals – especially our domesticated companion animals and the most cognitively gifted wild species – are not only conscious and cognitive, but have rich inner lives with their own thought processes, opinions, emotions, likes and dislikes.
But cracking those codes is a serious effort that will involve a concerted effort to negate our human bias as much as possible, attempts to see the world from an animal’s perspective, and multi-modal analysis that doesn’t just consider what we can see, hear and smell, but what our pals’ sensoriums can detect.
After all, we know that cats can hear in frequencies we cannot, that they possess a sense of smell as much as 20 times more sensitive than ours. There’s ongoing research into whether animals can detect magnetic fields, and differences in vision — such as perceiving different color tones and a drastically increased sensitivity to motion — mean a very intentional means of communicating by our cat may require the equivalent of a bullhorn for us to pick up on what they’re “saying.”
One day we may learn that they consider us the dim-witted ones who cannot see, hear or smell the obvious. We may get to that point, but not through half-hearted, unscientific efforts like labeled buttons and simple algorithms.
Wanderin’ Joe attends the local school, poses for annual yearbook photos, pops in to see his friends all over town, and has innumerable humans wrapped around his little paws.
He’s more popular than any human, practically ubiquitous around town, and so well-known he’s been nicknamed “mayor.”
He’s also a cat.
Wanderin’ Joe, as he’s known to locals in Clintonville, Ohio, is often spotted padding along a ravine, poking his head into homes and shops of his choosing, and hanging out in the local elementary school.
He’s the school’s unofficial mascot, loved by students and staff, and is even included in annual yearbook photos. (Previously we wrote about Ziggy, another family cat who accompanies his family’s kids to school daily and took it upon himself to pose for a yearbook photo. Who knew some cats love going to school?)
The people of Clintonville love little Joe so much that they decided to throw a festival in his honor. It’s not tied in to another event or celebrated in conjunction with a holiday. It’s an event exclusively in celebration of one very special four-legged ambassador of local good will.
Wanderin’ Joe poses for an admirer. While Joe’s got a grumpy look, his many fans say he’s friendly, gentle and curious. Credit: Christina More via Wanderin’ Joe/Facebook
Nick Fancher, Joe’s human, said the little guy’s wanderlust began when the family began taking him on walks. At first Joe would pad along behind his human family, but then “he would run ahead of us and then let us catch up.”
“He’s precocious,” Fancher told WOSU, the local public radio station. “Like, I swear he was an explorer in another lifetime.”
Joe’s adventures are legion. Per WOSU, he’s been “adopted half a dozen times” by well-meaning people who mistook him for a stray, crashed weddings and memorial services, and did a six-month stint as a barn cat when yet another person mistook him for a stray and brought him home.
Fancher said he’s well aware Joe could be harmed, but worries his orange tabby buddy wouldn’t be happy if he was restricted to the indoors.
The Ohio man did not have a hand in promoting his pal. The festival, a Facebook page devoted to Joe sightings, and tributes like a charcoal portrait of Joe, were all the efforts of random admirers in Clintonville, a town of some 30,000 residents about eight miles north of Columbus.
Joe exploring his neighborhood. Credit: Wanderin’ Joe/Facebook
At Joe Fest, some locals brought their own cats along, traded stories of the legendary Wanderin’ Joe over food and drink, and paid tribute to the feline himself, who graciously permitted his admirers to scratch his head and feed him snacks.
“It’s a little hard to wrap one’s head around it. It appeals to my sense of the absurd and the wonderful,” Patti Liszkay, who lives in the neighborhood, told the station. “It’s just sort of a bipartisan get together in honor of a cat. I mean, it’s gentle. It’s nice.”
Credit: Joseph Forcina via Wanderin’ Joe/Facebook
Meanwhile in an attempt to avoid hard feelings, and knowing it has long been one of Buddy’s dreams to have a festival in his honor, I had this printed out and stuck it on the fridge:
Pain In The Bud 