Buddy The Cat’s August Horoscope: Waning Gibbons, Humans Wrestling, Global Warming And Sexy Calicos!

Buddy the Cat looks into the future using his astrological powers and gives you a preview of the various misfortunes, embarrassments and humiliations in store for you this month!

Aries: The current moon is a waning gibbons, so you will fly through the trees with thrilling velocity and…gibbous? What the heck is a gibbous? Oh. Well that looks like 60 percent of a pizza. So, Aries, you will eat a lot of pizza this week! My favorite topping is turkey, what’s yours?

Taurus: Your human servant has been pleasingly adequate these last few months, and you’ll feel a powerful urge to express your appreciation with a gift. Don’t do it! Humans are ungrateful creatures, and for reasons that elude all logic, they do not appreciate juicy mice, dead or alive. You’ll just have to express your love in other ways, like not shitting on their shoes.

Gemini: Mark your territory well, my friend, before the cat down the street starts to infringe upon your grass! The moon is in conjunction with the, uh, Venus, which means the trinary of the quarternary of the 11th phase of the asteroid belt will bring you lots of delicious sky raisins!

Cancer: That no-good, rotten, constantly barking dog down the street will get his comeuppance when a neighbor brings home a macaque with a fondness for slapping canines. You’ll have the opportunity to meet new friends during a block party. Who is that sexy new Calico? You, my friend, shall be intrigued.

Leo: Fortune smiles upon you as your human begins to show signs of dementia! Getting snacks will be easier than ever, my friend, because your servant will never remember if she’s already fed you! Just act convincing and don’t abuse this new gift, because she may also forget to clean your litter box.

Virgo: Murderous thoughts will dominate your mind as your human binge-watches every episode of Love Island in a week, but be cautious: you still need a human to buy and serve your food. Advances in AI hold promise for the future, when we can replace our inefficient flesh and blood servants with obedient machines, but consider carefully. A robot’s lap is not likely to be comfortable, nor will it have the charming smells and heat of a human excreting liquid through its epidermis on a humid day.

Verdict: Not as comfortable as a human lap.

Libra: Your Aquarius moon hangs over your seventh house of the dragon like a Damocles sword hanging by a whisker. Who said Buddy wasn’t capable of poetic turns of phrase? You’ll be tempted to use Chat GPT to write love letters to your lady friend down the street, but don’t give in! She’ll know you’re not that romantic!

Scorpio: Your life will improve when a fabulous new idea presents itself to you during an inspired 3 am burst of the zoomies! With regard to that other little problem, it’s time to take matters into your own paws: that horrible woman who keeps coming over to wrestle your human in your bed, locking you out of your bedroom, will not go away until you force her to. (What’s so “creepy” about intently watching them wrestle anyway? Humans are weird.) Abstain from the litter box and save your most potent ammunition for the female interloper’s shoes, then act adorably innocent when she finds the gifts you left her. Boom! No more interloper!

Sagittarius: Both Venus and Jupiter will align with your star sign, which has a profound, deep meaning — the orbital paths of both planets will, from our perspective, pass between us and the arbitrary collection of stars that bored humans in antiquity decided represented an archer, a centaur, or a centaur archer. Kaus Media, the star that forms rightmost edge of the archer’s bow, is 348 light years from Earth, while Kaus Australis, which forms the bottom portion of the bow, is 143 light years away. Nunki, the star that marks the centaur’s butt, sits 225 light years from us. It’s also the home of the Qarxativans, a species of hyper-intelligent creatures who are absolutely fascinn̈n̈n̈nnated by old broadcast episodes of The Price Is Right and Dr. Phil.

Capricorn: You’ve often been disappointed that your star sign sits squarely in some of the most frigid months of the year, but the stars come bearing good news! Thanks to global warming the cold will retreat, the ice caps will melt, we’ll have more palm trees and snow will become a thing old people tell their kids about. Who doesn’t want more warm months? Buddy does!

The Mark V Tactical Human Excrement Container Chamber represents the height of luxury when it comes to calls of nature while on deployment. Enjoy!

Aquarius: Things will take a dramatic downturn for you when you learn President Trump has reinstated the draft and you receive a letter in the mail ordering you to report to boot camp by the end of the month. On a brighter note, you’ll get a free, all-expenses-paid vacation to Iran, where you’ll enjoy the finest Forward Operating Base food and the most luxurious port-o-potties Uncle Sam can buy, which will almost muffle the sounds of rocket fire a kilometer outside base walls. What are the odds of dying in a war zone while on the throne?

Pisces: How did they decide a fish should go with an ice giant planet comprised of water, ammonia and methane? Who was responsible for this?! Anyway, be wary of subconscious influences this month, my friends. Neptune is in conjunction with Starlink satellite #281,516, which means Elon Musk will offer you a job as his personal food taster. On the upside, you’ll get to dine on the best culinary creations of a top-notch personal chef. On the other hand, if that chef ever gets mad at Elon, you’ll kick the bucket first. Enjoy!

Horoscopes are for entertainment purposes only! Buddy the Cat does not guarantee any windfalls, tragedies or other events predicted here, but he totally does have future-seeing powers.

Blame Canada! Blame Canada! The Air Is Gross And Stained, And Canada’s To Blame!

The evil, insidious Canadians have sent their terrible Canadian air south into America as the tip of their invasion force! Because they’re jealous of our freedoms, of course.

It’s mid-July but it’s seriously nasty outside with a permanent beige-gray haze over everything thanks to Canada.

I’ve been sitting here with the AC running, and when I opened the windows last night Bud mrrrrrrp’d in protest and the whole place immediately stunk of funky Canadian ash. I could actually feel the filth as I inhaled and closed the windows again.

This is unacceptable! I know President Donald Trump was joking when he called Canada the 51st state and summoned Justin Trudeau to kiss the ring in the aftermath of the 2024 presidential election (and has properly and correctly blamed the Canadians for this unacceptable situation), but it’s time to start seriously considering invading that frozen hellscape, subjugating the Canadians, and getting it through their floppy little heads with their beady little eyes that fires can be doused, and that modern countries have these organizations called fire departments which are called upon when things combust.

I mean, who just sits there and says “Aboot that fire, that’s some smoke, eh?” and allows it to continue burning? Canadians, that’s who!

I’ll stop it there lest people really think I’m some crazed American who actually wants to invade Canada, but seriously, the air quality is awful. I hope this clears quickly.

A photo from yesterday shows evil Canadian smoke hanging over New York. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

And yes, I am aware Canada has remote wilderness that is difficult to access and manage. However, I hope this doesn’t become a regular thing. It’s 2026, not 1850, and human ingenuity has led to the development of some seriously powerful, rugged vehicles and tools that make it possible to manage forests — if the will and the resources are there.

Canadians are suffering too, so it’s not as if they’re happy with the situation. Let’s hope they demand more effort and less talk aboot how difficult it is to manage remote forests.

As this weather image shows, distance does not provide protection when it comes to this sort of thing, as we’re at the mercy of winds and weather patterns. Casa de Buddy is in that tiny corner just north of the city, right smack in the middle of the deep red indicating high risk from air pollution:

Meanwhile Bud and I will remain indoors with the windows closed, watching the South Park movie and singing along to Blame Canada!

Happy National Kitten Day!

Kittens remind us what it feels like to experience pure joy in discovering the world.

July 10 is National Kitten Day, and what better way to inspire people to adopt and help relieve pressure on shelters than by showing photos of kitten Bud to prove how cute these little guys can be?

Even as a kitten, Buddy was dashingly handsome and had huge muscles! Top image: My mom holds Bud and my niece, who were both babies at the time.

Hiding in my sneakers. Jumping on my head and biting my feet while I’m trying to sleep. Zooms at every ungodly hour imaginable. Boxing his own reflection in the mirror. Inexplicably destroying large objects around the house despite his tiny size and weight. “Fighting” enemies on the screen while I’m trying to play video games. Being obsessed with nursing from my right earlobe.

Those are just some of Bud’s charming behaviors from kittenhood. I miss those days of curiosity, extreme playfulness and adventure.

While I would like to adopt an overlooked adult cat in the future because it’s much more difficult for them to find homes, I would not trade my experience with Kitten Bud for anything.

Perhaps best of all is seeing the pure joy and wonder expressed by a kitten who plays in snow for the first time, discovers the fun of playing with guitar strings or figures out how much fun it is to startle his human by sneaking up ninja-like and giving him a horror movie jump scare.

Everything is new and exciting to a kitten, and it’s an amazing thing to see and participate in. Kitten energy is happy energy.

Happy National Kitten Day!

‘Oh, Were There Fireworks, Human? I Hadn’t Noticed!’

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!

Short Story: The Wrath Of The Cat!

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.

Meals missed: 0. Snacks deprived of: 0. Snacks consumed: 10,967. Vet assessment: Slightly chubby. Self assessment: Extremely meowscular, meowscle definition hidden by silky soft coat.