Buddy – Page 77 – Pain In The Bud

Captain Buddy and the Voyages of the USS Yums

Captain Buddy and the USS Yums arrive at the Dog 359 system to assess the species Canidae’s candidacy for membership in the Furrderation.

Catptain’s Log, Stardate 20.20 dash 6.22 dot Yums:

We have arrived in orbit around Canis Prime in the Dog 359 system, home to a primitive pre-warp species known as Canis Familiaris.

Despite the presence of a team of interpreters, our diplomats have been unable to get the inhabitants of Canis Prime to calm down and stop trying to hump them.

After presenting the primitive canids with a ball, a recreational object meant as a gift of goodwill, the canids pointedly refuse to accept the gift, insisting that our diplomats throw it, only for the canids to bring it back to them covered in a revolting membrane of canid slobber and demand they throw it again.

Our Interstellar Dog Intelligence and Observation Team (IDIOT) clearly failed to prepare us for these strange creatures and their repulsive rituals.

“Captain, I beg you to beam us up,” my normally stoic first officer, Commander Stryker, implored. “Please. These beings are too primitive and stupid to join the Furrderation.”

dogslobber — A member of the primitive species Canis Familiaris with the desecrated goodwill ball. Credit: Flickr

Tensions reached a boiling point when the members of my away team dug a latrine a few klicks from the primary canid settlement, Good Boyistan, and returned later to find a crowd of canids fighting amongst themselves to consume the team’s eliminations.

Shortly afterward we received a hail from the Canid Welcoming Committee on the surface, formally requesting to tour the ship, with an uncomfortably specific number of questions about our ship’s litter system, as well as how and where our waste is disposed.

I’ve ordered my Chief of Security, Lieutenant Wharf, to post guards at all privy chambers on the vessel. I will not have my ship used as a dining facility by these strange creatures.

I regret having to conclude my report by advising against allowing the Canidae membership in the Furrderation. There’s just something fishy about them, aside from the whole eating our poop and slobbering things. They are too friendly, suspiciously friendly even, and their culture does not appear to have any concept of personal space. In addition, they are embarrassingly easy to manipulate with simple praise, which would create a security risk for our Furrderation member species.

Captain Buddy out.

Lieutenant, have the transporter room recall the away team immediately and set a course for the Fowl 62c system, warp five. It’s time we get the hell away from these filthy, disgusting, smelly…is this thing still recording?

Meet My Cousin. He’s A Dog.

Yes, he’s a dog. Every family has its black sheep…or brown chihuahuas.

This is my cousin, Cosmo.

As you can see, he’s a dog. Specifically some sort of chihuahua-terrier bastard mix. I try not to hold it against him, but he’s not so smart.

Tug of war: A simple game for a simple animal.

Here’s an interesting fact: Did you know dogs think they’re territorial like us cats? In their very small brains they think “I’ve got my own territory to defend! I know! I’ll be very loud and tell any potential intruders I’m standing right here just waiting for an ass kicking! Bark bark!”

Ridiculous!

Intruders in kitty territory don’t even know they’re being watched. They think the coast is clear and they drop their guard, oblivious to the ninja cat already sailing through the air, razor claws extended, ready to dispense a little feline-style justice!

Cosmo is visiting New York with his dad, Brother of Big Buddy. BoBB is a pretty cool guy. He understands who runs things around here and he pays tribute to me by rubbing my head.

Cosmo himself is easy to bully. All I have to do is flash my terrifying fangs and show off my huge muscles, and he whimpers and runs away. Then I eat all the snacks.

Still, Cosmo’s not bad. For a dog.

Buddy the Cat! — As you can see, my fur is much more luxurious than a dog’s bristly coat.

Reminder: I’m Still Devastatingly Handsome

Photos of Buddy provide a visual feast for his thousands of admirers.

bud_close_face — You smell that? It isn’t Curve or Drakkhar Noir, it’s Essence of Buddy. Notes of blackberry, grape and autumn in New York.

bud_inside — My coat is luxurious but needs a brushing. My servant is derelict in his responsibilities.

bud_lookingup — I ponder my handsomeness as I look yonder.

Buddy: Whatcha Lookin' At? — Whatcha lookin’ at, eh? Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!

Buddy’s Mailbag: Oh Sh#t!!!

For the first time ever, Buddy is at a loss for words.

Little Runt Who Talk Too Much,

Me hear fat little tabby cat claiming he is strongest cat in world. Me crush fat little tabby cat! He is perfect size for breakfast sandwich! I put him between slices of bread and mayonnaise. Muahaha!

Name place and time, we see who is strongest cat. Hint: It is me.

– Murderclaw the Disemboweler

My Servant Has Returned!

Buddy’s servant has returned to do his bidding!

Buddy gave me the cold shoulder after I returned from Japan and it lasted all of 30 seconds before he couldn’t contain himself and began rubbing up against me to mark me with his scent.

Cats have scent glands all over their body, including their cheeks and foreheads, and scent is one way they establish familiarity and “ownership.” They’re comforted by the presence of their own pheromones, which is why products like Feliway — an artificial cat pheromone in a spray bottle — can help anxious cats chill out.

When a cat rubs up against a human or another cat, they’re essentially saying “These are my people!”

Or in Buddyspeak: “This guy is my servant! My servant has returned!”

Upon my return from an extended absence Buddy will not let me out of sight and will cry loudly and incessantly if I so much as use the bathroom without allowing him in, as is tradition. And this time around he puked when I returned, as is tradition.

I suspect it’s his way of processing relief, similar to the way some animals shake when overcome with anxiety or emotion. I try to remind myself that if it feels like I’ve been away a long time, for Buddy it must feel like a much longer time has elapsed — and there’s no way I can communicate to him that I’ll be back soon, so there’s an additional element of anxiety-provoking uncertainty.

Regardless, the king is happy again. Long live the king! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plate of turkey pate to serve…