Tag: beauty rest

Oh Big Buddy, Why Have You Abandoned Me?

Day Four: Here I exist in solitary confinement, without anyone to meow to or sleep on.

If a Buddy meows for snacks and no one is around to hear him, do his meows exist?

These are the questions I ponder as hour after silent hour ticks by, my stomach rumbling. (Nice lady stops by only once a day to feed me, oh woe is me!)

Oh how I miss the halcyon days when delicious snacks were an insistent meow away, when I’d lounge on Big Buddy’s legs and in his lap for hours as we watched Squid Game!

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Oh how I miss slapping his face with my paw, then sitting directly on his face and meowing into his ear for breakfast, knowing I’d successfully woken him when he yelled “I’m going to sell you to Shezhuan Garden II, you annoying little jerk!”

I am on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, ready to present my contribution to quantum mechanics in which I posit that a new, heretofore unknown fundamental particle, the Turkon, exists at the subatomic level.

Without a human here to dictate to, how will I submit my findings to a prestigious journal?

Meanwhile my human is probably frolicking on the beach, basking in the sunshine and warmth of a 70-degree Outer Banks January day.

It’s going to take A LOT of snacks, massages and “good boys” to make this right.

Dear Buddy: What’s a cat got to do to get some decent sleep?!

Dear Buddy,

You’ve gotta help me out, hermano. I’ve got a real crisis on my paws here.

I can’t get any decent sleep.

I own a pair of humans who decided a noisy neighborhood was a good spot to live. Buddy, you wouldn’t believe the racket around here: Blaring car horns, subwoofers that rattle the windows, construction a few houses away, infernal dogs barking.

The neighbor kids next door are always playing outside at ungodly hours, like during my 1 pm post-lunch siesta, my 3:30 pm nap and my post-dinner snooze. I can’t even get in a few hours before it’s bedtime and I hop under the covers with my humans.

Buddy, I haven’t had a decent 16-hour day’s sleep in ages. What do I do!?

Dead Tired in Detroit

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Dear Dead Tired in Detroit,

Ugh, that sounds awful! I get cranky if I don’t get my usual 16 to 18 hours in, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through.

This is gonna be tough, Detroit. I can’t help you with the construction or the cars, but we can get those kids and dogs sorted.

Deal with the neighbor brats the old school way by marking your territory. Poop in their yard and garden. Spray the side of their house. Scratch all the trees as high as you can so they think a huge tiger is on the loose. Let them know this is YOUR realm, and if the brats want to play they can sit inside and play X Boxes. (Where are these boxes? I have never seen them.)

The dogs are a little easier. Approach them carefully. When they bark, you say:

“Wow, I’ve never met a dog who doesn’t like bacon!”

They’re gonna get that stupid look on their faces, the one where their tongues hang out and their eyes go blank.

“What do you mean?” they’ll ask.

Here’s where you butter them up.

“The Bacon Faerie!” you’ll say matter-of-factly. “She leaves slices of thick, crispy bacon for good boys who don’t bark. But you already knew that, because you’re a smart dog!”

Try not to speak too fast and don’t call them stupid. Just wait for them to slobber while thinking about that delicious bacon, and your job is done.

“Yes, I…uh, I forgot about the Bacon Faerie,” the dumb dog will say.

Spread the rumor to a few other pups and you’ve got a quiet neighborhood with no barking. Steal some bacon once in a while and zoom around the neighborhood tossing slices into yards like a paperboy to keep the dumb dogs from wising up.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s been an hour since my last nap and my favorite spot on the couch is calling me.

Buddy

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Sure, the Bacon Faerie may not exist, but dogs don’t have to know that!