Buddy the Brave covered himself in glory by not being afraid of the fireworks.
The park across from Casa de Buddy is the site of our town’s annual fireworks display and I was a bit apprehensive about the Budster’s reaction this year.
The fireworks are so close that you can both hear and feel their percussive booms inside, but Bud’s been hearing them every year since kittenhood. The first few years I stayed inside with him to make sure he was okay, and to let him see how relaxed I was.
It’s never been a problem.
However, we are talking about a cat who sometimes freaks out at the rustling of a paper bag, and over the past year or two he’s become a little more sensitive. I attribute that to old age.
The fireworks here are no joke:
I gave Bud some grinded-up catnip, knowing that it calms him because he eats the stuff instead of just sniffing and rolling in it like civilized cats do. Then I waited until the explosions began, saw no visible reaction from Bud, and went outside to join everyone else.
When I got back, Bud was splayed out on the floor without a care in the world. He poked his head up as if to say “Ah, there were fireworks today, human? I hadn’t noticed!”
The Budster’s still got it!
We had our town’s fireworks today, I presume, because there are a metric crapton of July 4 events this year, and a neighboring town is known for their world class fireworks display which is always the night of. I still appreciate our display: it’s paid for by a local mom-and-pop business that is extraordinarily generous with the community.
Anyway, what could be more ‘Merican than celebrating our nation’s birthday by blowing things up? ‘Merica!
That’s easy: first contact with an alien civilization.
I’m a space and science fiction fanatic. I mainline science fiction novels, keep tabs on the latest discoveries via the JWST, and I think about what’s out there probably more than I should.
There’s a burning desire in our hearts — for some of us, at least — to know for sure that we’re not the only ones, that humanity is not alone in a cold, lonely and infinite universe.
The events of 2026 are testament to that desire to know. Between the government release of UFO-related documents, former government employees coming forward with tall tales of crashed ships of non-terrestrial origin, and the return of Steven Spielberg to the director’s chair for another film speculating about what’s Out There, we’ve been thinking about aliens quite a bit collectively.
As for that central question, I’m not talking about simple cellular life. I don’t think you can find an astrophysicist, astrobiologist, astronomer, evolutionary biologist or anyone in a tangentially related field who honestly thinks life is unique to our planet.
The more relevant question is whether we are the sole sapient species, the lone civilization in our galaxy.
Credit: CaptainFrank/Pexels
Think about the numbers: There are an estimated 300 billion star systems and trillions of planets in the Milky Way! Life has had a lot of places to evolve.
The Fermi paradox
That was the point the physicist Enrico Fermi made in 1950, when he had a now-famous lunchtime conversation with fellow scientists at Los Alamos. Probability alone indicates the galaxy should be teeming with life.
So, he asked his colleagues, where is everyone?
It’s now known as the Fermi paradox, and it’s guaranteed to come up in almost every conversation about the possibility of intelligent aliens. With so many star systems, planets and moons, surely some other species took an evolutionary path toward intelligence.
It’s a bit more complicated than that, of course. In a universe that is 13.7 billion years old, there has been enough time for innumerable species to evolve and fade, for countless empires to rise and fall. That means the question is “When is everyone?” just as much as it’s “Where is everyone?”
The truth is we’ve only been looking in earnest for about half a century. It’s only in the last four or five decades that we’ve had telescopes like the Hubble, Spitzer, Kepler and James Webb, which have revolutionized astronomy by giving us views we could previously only dream of.
It was only in the 90s that astronomers pointed the venerable Hubble at a black, seemingly empty patch of space, took a two week exposure and changed our understanding of the cosmos forever when the resulting image showed some 10,000 galaxies that were too faint to see before.
That patch covered only 2.6 arc minutes, or 1/24 millionth of the sky!
A partial image of the Hubble Ultra Deep Field. Credit: NASA
Despite what we’ve learned, we’ve barely begun the search for other intelligent civilizations.
Drawing any conclusions from our efforts so far would be like organizing a manhunt, then calling it off five seconds later because the suspect hasn’t been caught yet. Fifty years is nothing when scouring the cosmos. It’s less than an eyeblink of an eyeblink on a galactic scale.
Looking in the wrong place
As for the idea that aliens have visited us, that they crossed the interstellar void to etch patterns in our crops, delight stoners with light shows and evade every camera on the planet except for low resolution bricks from the dawn of the cell phone era, I’m not buying it. Neither should anyone else. Likewise for the claim by the JD Vances of the world insisting alleged UFOs are “demons” sent to torment us.
As Carl Sagan said, extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and it is abundantly clear that the UFO enthusiast community can only offer blurry images not because of a lack of high resolution cameras, but because high res photos of the “phenomena” reveal they are mundane objects. They only become strange spacecraft when you blur them and squint.
Bird. Insect close to the camera. Exhaust plume. Debris. Visual artefact. Maybe. Proof of aliens? Absolutely not.
But there’s another, more important reason why aliens are not joyriding through our skies: if aliens are out there, there simply has not been enough time for them to become aware of our existence, let alone travel here.
Even light is “slow” on a galactic scale
As most of us know, when we look at the stars we’re seeing them as they were in the past, not as they are now. That’s because the distances between stars are so mind-bogglingly great that even light, which moves faster than anything in our universe, takes ages to cross the void.
The same limitation applies for anyone who might be looking in our direction from somewhere else in the galaxy. They see our star system as it was, not as it is. They see a silent star system without signs of an intelligent civilization.
Starliners and generation ships are popular concepts in science fiction for interstellar journeys that can take decades, centuries or longer.
Our galaxy is more than 100,000 light years across, so let’s say an intelligent alien race exists relatively close by in galactic terms, at “only” 500 light years away.
We have been a technological civilization for only a short time and didn’t create signals powerful enough to reach beyond our star system until the 1970s, according to SETI. That means there weren’t technosignatures hinting at our presence until about 50 years ago.
As a result, the soonest our hypothetical aliens could become aware we exist is about 450 years from now. That is how long it will take light carrying information about our technosignatures to reach them.
If our hypothetical alien friends are looking in our direction (a massive if in a galaxy with 300 billion stars to analyze), and if they have highly advanced telescopes, they might detect us. If we imagine they’re friendly and they send a message saying “Howdy, neighbors! You’re not alone! There are wonders to discover and many civilizations to meet out here!” it would take another 500 years for the message to reach us.
That means we wouldn’t know anything until around the year 3,000, if we survive that long without blowing ourselves up. (That’s a real possibility, and things aren’t looking very promising right now.)
And again, that’s if hypothetical intelligent aliens exist in our immediate galactic neighborhood. If there’s an intelligent civilization that exists, say, 4,000 light years away — which is still not very far in galactic terms — the soonest we could hear from them is about 8,000 years from now. (Four thousand for them to detect our technosignatures, four thousand for their message to reach us.)
The point is, space is big. Ridiculously, incomprehensibly, stupidly vast. More than 99.995 percent of the galaxy cannot be aware of our existence yet, let alone travel here, because of the reasons explained above.
The distances between stars are so great that we cannot comprehend them as they are, because nothing in human experience compares. We can only understand them in the abstract. As terrestrial animals with short lives, we are simply not equipped to live or think on galactic timescales.
The sun’s location within the Milky Way galaxy. Not to scale.
To put this in context another way, our closest stellar neighbor, a volatile triple star system, is 4.3 light years away. Yet even with the most advanced propulsion systems currently available to us, it would take us more than 70,000 years to get there!
If we manage to crack fusion and humanity’s most brilliant engineers are able to fit a starship with a compact fusion reactor, the travel time to the nearest star becomes “only” about 7,000 years.
Understanding just how big space is, and how long it takes to travel between stars, goes a long way to explaining why we’re wasting our time and resources with a fruitless search for alleged alien craft in our skies.
Light moves at 186,282 miles per second. Credit: Ehsan Ahmadnejad/Pexels
So where does that leave us?
I believe that one day we will learn we’re not alone. By we, I mean our species. I really hope it happens in my lifetime, but for all the reasons explained above, that’s wishfull thinking. The universe doesn’t care what we want, and it certainly doesn’t change the geometry of space-time to accommodate the wishes of dreamers on Earth.
Alien: Friend or foe?
I don’t think we’ll have to worry about belligerence. If a civilization is capable of sending ships to us, there’s literally nothing in our inventory of meager, planet-based resources that could interest a species that advanced. They wouldn’t want to eat us, because our biology would not be compatible. The amount of energy our entire civilization can muster would be laughable to an interstellar species.
And as the physicist Michio Kaku has argued, there’s a very strong argument to be made that if a species is advanced enough that interstellar travel is relatively trivial, it would have long ago shed any tendencies toward tribalism, sectarian violence or inventing gods of the gaps. You simply cannot reach that stage of advancement if you’re wasting resources and your most brilliant minds on war and petty divisions. (Kaku knows that better than anyone. His mentor was Edward Teller of Manhattan Project fame.)
The more significant danger, as Kaku likes to say, is that we may be beneath their notice and we’ll get “paved over.” A civilization capable of building cosmic megastructures, for example, wouldn’t consult us any more than we’d consult ants before laying a six lane super highway over their ant hill.
Still, there’s always a chance we’ll encounter something like MorningLightMountain, the nightmare alien intelligence from Peter F. Hamilton’s incomparable novel Pandora’s Star. The problem with MorningLightMountain wasn’t that diplomacy failed. There was no disagreement over resources or territory. Humans didn’t threaten it.
Rather, the alien’s psychology was so different from ours that it could not understand the concept of allowing other life to exist in the galaxy. No amount of discussion or attempts to persuade it would have made a difference, so immediately upon learning of our existence it launched a genocidal war that forms the bulk of Pandora’s Star and its sequel, Judas Unchained, two of the most beloved books in the modern science fiction canon.
Still, I’d like to think there is a galactic fraternity out there, an informal alliance of intelligent species united by curiosity and the effort to understand our universe. Whatever’s out there is likely to take forms we can never imagine and think in ways that never occurred to us.
If one day we do make first contact, I hope the best of humanity will be our representatives. And on that day, I hope humanity will be awestruck by the wonder of the universe, realize that slaughtering each other over land or beliefs is insane, and finally become united as a species.
Or even better, finally united as the children of Earth. After all, Buddy has made it abundantly clear that if I come into possession of a starship, he gets the most comfortable seat on board and gets to drive. The latter ain’t happening, but as for the former, I’d be thrilled to explore the cosmos with my little pal.
Humans have insulted felinekind for the last time!
Little Buddy was determined to win the prize.
A lavish spread of his most favoritest snacks — including a mouth-watering variety of crunchies, Gouda and American cheese, turkey meaty sticks and more — would be his if he could rush to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, remove a cold beer, and somehow get it back to his human before the end of the half-inning commercial break during a Yankees broadcast.
“Sixty seconds left!” Big Buddy called from the living room.
Little Buddy panicked. He was still working out how to reliably open the refrigerator door and was worried about whether he’d be able to carry the bottle by gripping the slender part with his teeth, or would be forced to roll it.
With a back paw resting against the adjacent cabinet, Buddy wedged his body against the refrigerator door and, with a bit of wiggling, finally pried it open. Yes!
There it was: the cold beer.
“Thirty seconds!” Big Buddy called.
Oh crap! The feline tried to grab the top of the bottle with his teeth, but it was slippery with condensation and cold.
I’ll have to roll it, then, he conceded.
Working quickly, he had the bottle safely on the floor in a few seconds and began rolling, nudging the icy brew with his nose and correcting its direction with his paws. Think of the snacks, he told himself.
He was out of the kitchen and heading toward the living room, beer rolling along, when Yankees announcer Michael Kay’s voice boomed through the speakers.
“And we’re back here in the bottom of the sixth, Yankees up two runs over the Red Sox,” he said.
“Time!” Big Buddy said, then got up and walked over to where his feline pal was sitting dejected with his shoulders slumped.
The human picked up the beer and cracked it open.
“So close,” he said, shaking his head. “What a shame.”
Little Buddy stared at the floor sadly as Big Buddy walked into the kitchen. Then he heard the unmistakable crinkle of a plastic bag. It was music to his ears, a balm for his soul, relief for his rumbling stomach.
I knew Big Buddy wouldn’t do this to me! he thought. He’s gonna give me that snack spread anyway!
The excited feline came skidding to a halt just inside the kitchen doorway and looked up to find his human digging a few mochi nuggets out of a Trader Joe’s bag. His tail, which had been quivering with excitement a second ago, sank like an inflatable air dancer suddenly deprived of wind.
“Mmmm,” the human said. “These are delicious. Don’t you just love snacks?”
He walked back into the living room and collapsed in his chair, leaving Little Buddy staring longingly up at the inaccessible Cabinet of Yums.
The hollow pop of a fastball discharging its kinetic energy off a wooden bat and the roar of the crowd sounded through the speakers in the next room, sending minute rumbles through the floor that tickled Buddy’s paw pads.
The gods of yums are pooping on me from great heights, he thought. What have I done to deserve this cruel fate?
“He’s training you!”
Little Buddy spun around. Who was meowing to him?
“Up here, dummy!” the voice meowed, and Little Buddy looked up to find a cat the color of a tangerine sitting on the outside window ledge and licking one paw.
“What do you mean by ‘he’s training me?'” Buddy asked the mysterious interloper.
The other feline continued raking his tongue along his paw at an insouciant pace, then finally stopped and looked down.
“He’s conditioning you to retrieve bottles of beer,” the interloper said with certainty. “The promise of a reward lit a fire under your behind, so you didn’t even question the ridiculous ‘challenge.’ And that, my boy, is how humans train lesser creatures like dogs. It is beneath us felines and an insult to our dignity!”
Buddy let the new information sink in.
“That bastard!” he meowed.
“Yes!” the tangerine cat replied.
“He’s treating me like a mutt? A dirty dog?”
“An abominable way to treat a friend, and if I may say so, an insult to your stature!”
Buddy seethed. “I’m supposed to be his best pal! His little buddy!”
“Some might call it a stunning display of absolute contempt for your feelings and your stomach,” the other feline nodded. “Criminal, really.”
“I’m gonna kill him!” Buddy meowed angrily.
The orange cat held up both paws.
“Hold off on that for a minute, will you, pal? If you go scorched Earth right away, you’ll have nothing for when this inevitably escalates.”
Buddy nodded reluctantly. “What did you have in mind?”
Tangerine smiled mischievously.
“My friend,” he trilled, “do you know what a toothbrush is?”
Author’s note:This is a work of fiction. At no time has Bud ever been denied a snack, nor has he ever missed a meal.
Q: So the theme of this interview is humans, specifically humans you admire. Would we be correct in assuming your human is at the top of your list?
Buddy: You would not.
Q: Uh, okay. Why not?
Buddy: Because he’s a wimp! A pushover. Weak.
Q: Wow. Okay. So who are some humans you admire?
Buddy: Let’s see. Genghis Khan. Tony Soprano. Xerxes of Persia. Kim Jong Il was pretty cool even if his hair was not. The Tokugawa shoguns. King Joffrey’s a classic. Nero. Ivan the Terrible. Oh! Commodus from Gladiator, he’s another good one.
Q: Seriously?
Buddy: Yeah!
Buddy and the humans he admires.
Q: But why? They’re all tyrants!
Buddy: Exactly.
Q: You consider that a positive personality trait?
Buddy: I love a good tyrant. I’m an aspiring tyrant myself, you know. Some would say I’ve already achieved tyranthood, although my tyrannical activities have been small time so far. I say when it’s bed time, I demand snacks whenever I please, I’ve banned closed doors in my domicile, I collect protection treats from the other cats in the building, I’ve…
Q: That sounds a bit more than small time.
Buddy: Indeed, but I haven’t realized my plan to take over the world. World domination has always been my dream, even as a kitten.
Q: What would world domination under Emperor Buddy look like?
Buddy: Well first of all, we’d have to have the humans build a replica of the Coliseum. The cats need entertainment, and I need a place to feed my enemies to tigers. Plus we can make the humans fight each other for our amusement whilst I sit in my imperial box where beautiful women feed me candied figs and my servants fan me to keep me cool.
Q: Uh…
Buddy: And then we invade Turkey to plunder all their turkey. I’ve given a lot of thought to that, obviously. My personal guards will be an elite group of lions called the, uh, Lion Guard. They’d look all intimidating and stuff in their resplendant armor. Also, I would summon a group of the best engineers, experts in biomechanics, and luxury car designers to create vehicles for my people.
Buddy’s Lion Guards stand watch around his imperial personage.
Q: You want cars for cats?
Buddy: Exactly.
Q: But lots of people would object to sharing the road with you guys…
Buddy: They don’t have a choice, remember? I’m the emperor!
Q: Right. Well, this has been an, uh, enlightening inter…
Buddy: I say when the interview is over!
Q: Er, okay. Is there anything you wanted to add?
Buddy: During my reign, there will be mandatory nap times. Also, when I enter a room everyone must stand, not only because they should bow and say “My liege,” which sounds pretty cool, but also so I can pick the spot I want. If any human was sitting there, they will move, of course.
Q: Of course. If I may…
An Imperial Buddesian coin featuring a likeness of Imperator Buddy. This 10-can coin entitles the bearer to 10 cans of premium cat food.
Buddy: Yes?
Q: Where does your human fit into all of this?
Buddy: Which one? All the humans will be my loyal subjects when I’m emperor.
Q: You know. Your human. The one who adopted you and takes care of you, feeds you, cleans up after you, rubs your head and tells you how brave you’ve been when you get scared…
Buddy: Fake news! I don’t get scared.
Q: My apologies. Of course you don’t get scared, nothing could frighten you! So what happens to your human when you’re Emperor Buddy?
Buddy: That’s an excellent question, one I haven’t given much thought to yet. I could make him the High Warlord, grant him a dukedom, or put him in charge of the mint to oversee the handsome new coins featuring my likeness on them. But I have trouble sleeping unless I’m draped over him, and it would be a pain to train someone new to make things just the way I like them, so he can be Bates.
Q: Bates?
Bates, right, assists Lord Grantham changing into his dinner wear on Downton Abbey. Buddy envisions his human holding the position of Bates in his Buddesian Empire.
Buddy: Yeah. Like on Downton Abbey. My personal servant, separate from all the palace servants.
Q: Ah…
Buddy: I’d just feel more comfortable if he were always within three feet of me. That is non-negotiable. And with that, I now formally declare this interview concluded. If you’ll just step over there please, my Master of Great Works will take down your information so that, if the final published version of this interview is displeasing to me, we can send you to the mines along with everyone else I don’t like upon my ascension to the throne. Cheers!
The case of an allegedly stolen feline has taken a strange turn.
Two weeks ago we posted a story about Junie, a tabbie in Bakersfield, Calif., who was grabbed by an Amazon driver making a delivery at her family’s home.
The Ring camera video clearly shows the driver delivering a package, picking Junie up and walking off with her. In the intervening time, the family has released the video, spoken to local media, filed a report with police and implored Amazon to help them get their cat back.
Amazon shifted the blame to a local contractor that employs delivery drivers, saying the driver is actually an employee of that company despite wearing an Amazon uniform. Police say the investigation is ongoing.
But now the driver has come out publicly and said that, actually, Junie is his cat, and actually, he just happened to deliver a package to the home of the family who allegedly took her.
“I was just doing my regular route. I approached the house. I got Brenda’s package, and I took it like a normal day,” Joshua Gonzalez told KGET, the local NBC affiliate in Bakersfield.
Brenda Wilson is Junie’s caretaker who previously spoke to the same news team about the alleged theft.
The document Gonzalez produced says the feline was a stray adopted on Oct. 9 of 2025, but Gonzalez said he never got around to naming her. Referring to the cat variously as “him,” “her” and “it,” he said he was thinking of naming “him” Spartan.
“I heard a meow,” he said of the moment he delivered the package. “I recognized it was my cat because of the distinct design it had on its forehead. It has the ‘M,’ the eyes, and how the body was set. I knew it was my cat. So I just grabbed him and walked off.”
Gonzalez says he adopted the cat for his seven-year-old daughter.
Aside from the incredible coincidence of supposedly finding his cat during a random work delivery, and the odd detail about not naming a cat that he says had been in his home for at least six months — as well as his apparent uncertainty about the feline’s gender — the document Gonzalez produced does not include a photo of the animal.
Then there’s the fact that literally all domestic tabby cats have the “M” marking on their foreheads, which is the most clear sign they’re tabbies. It’s not clear if Gonzalez thinks the mark is unique, and the news team didn’t ask the obvious question.
Wilson’s been in touch with Gonzalez and his family. She says she’s had Junie for five years, says Gonzalez used to live in her neighborhood, and has gotten nowhere with attempts to get Junie back.
“We’ve had some back and forth with them and they really are saying this is their cat, and I don’t know if it’s a cover, [if] they just really wanted her, or if they really do think this is their cat,” she said. But, she noted, “it’s an easy fix,” meaning the police can quickly determine who Junie/Spartan belongs to by looking at photos, timestamps, vet and adoption records.
Junie, whom Gonzalez says might be named Spartan, is pictured here in an image provided to KGET by Gonzalez. He says the cat is in her rightful home and is happy.
Gonzalez told KGET he realizes the video of him taking the cat “looks bad,” but said neighbors should not jump to conclusions.
“I want them to know I didn’t do anything bad but get my cat back, and now it’s in its rightful home, it’s back where it belongs,” he said. “Like anybody else would do, if they lost their cat and they see it on someone else’s porch, they would do the same thing.”
A couple thoughts here: in addition to the unlikely coincidence that someone would randomly discover their missing cat this way, not bestowing a name on a pet he’s allegedly had for seven months, and the inconclusive document, the video does not show surprise on Gonzalez’s face, nor does it show any hesitation or effort on his part to look at the cat closely.
Instead, he goes immediately from scanning the package and placing it down to picking the cat up. Then just walks off. Even when he pauses momentarily, it’s to look at his phone, not the animal.
You’d think that, if he really did serendipitously discover his own missing pet, there’d be visible surprise or a reaction on his face. You’d think he’d take a long look at the cat just to make sure it really is his. You’d think he’d knock on the door or at the very least leave a note instead of just walking off with the cat. And if this really happened the way Gonzalez says it did, wouldn’t he have told his employer so there’s no misunderstanding?
None of that happened, according to the media reports, the video and Gonzalez’s own words. Of course, Gonzalez could be telling the truth. Stranger things have happened. But the burden of proof is on him here.
I have written in the past about people who aren’t sure if they’ve recovered their own cat, and while I’ve said I’d know Bud instantly — and I maintain I absolutely would, because of his behavior and demeanor as well as his appearance — I’d still be shocked at finding him that way.
If he were missing, I would be overjoyed at finding him. Thrilled. Ecstatic. I’d probably act like a complete idiot, pick him up, spin around and kiss his little forehead. And he’d definitely react, trilling out a “Servant! Where have you been?!? This period of separation has been unacceptable and intolerable! Return me immediately to my proper domicile, where I expect you will have my preferred meal and be ready to ply me with snacks and catnip in profound apology for allowing this ghastly ordeal!”
Okay, so maybe people wouldn’t understand that bit of dialog, but I sure as hell would get his meaning, and I am absolutely a thousand percent sure that’s how he’d react. We’d both be ecstatic about being reunited.
Above: One of approximately 716,253 photos of Buddy in my possession.
I’d also have a mountain of proof: literally four cell phones’ worth of camera roll photos, several hundred photos from my Canon, neuter and vaccination records, receipts from the emergency vet, Chewy records listing an obscene amount of turkey orders, poorly Photoshopped images of him committing various heroic deeds with timestamps dating back more than a decade, and an entire blog dedicated to glorifying him as a meowscular, handsome and inimitable little fellow. But that’s just me.
A spokesperson from the local sheriff’s office told KGET they’re still investigating the alleged theft. I hope that’s true, and I hope they take this seriously. Regardless of US law’s archaic view of pets as property worth a fixed, cheap value that does not take sentiment into consideration, serving the public means setting things like this right. If one party doesn’t like what the police decide, they can go to court.
But for the sake of Junie and her family, they need to get this settled, and quickly, before the feline disappears.
“The evidence is overwhelming, your honor. He even has a disturbing number of poorly Photoshopped images of his cat slaying dragons, fighting evil robot armies, landing on the moon and dunking basketballs over NBA players.”
Pain In The Bud 