An Actress Might Lose Out On An Oscar Because She Says She Hates Cats

The reaction says volumes about our society’s sense of proportionality, our collective understanding of animals, and our ability to politely disagree on topics we feel strongly about.

This hasn’t been a great week for feline PR.

Not only did two celebrities come out with bizarrely forceful anti-cat sentiments, but from their statements, they both “hate” cats because they’ve misinterpreted feline behavior.

The fallout hasn’t been good either, for the actress and rapper involved, or for the more extreme animal lovers who have responded with disproportionate rage.

The first comes from rapper Docheii, who insists cats “genuinely aren’t friendly animals.”

“yall be scratched and beat tf up by your own animals I can’t lmaoooo,” the towering intellect from Florida wrote on social media.

Cats, she asserted, “don’t wanna be domesticated.”

Presumably she got that information from the Pew Center for Feline Public Opinion, and the rest of us simply aren’t privy to the latest opinion polls among cats. And here I thought our furry friends were mostly ambivalent about anything that doesn’t involve napping, playing and eating. (I took an informal poll of Bud. He responded with a simple “Fetch me a snack, will you, human?”)

A promo shot of Doechii, real name Jaylah Ji’mya Hickmon

Regardless, even if there was some way to ascertain how cats feel about a process their ancestors initiated — one that takes thousands of years to result in speciation — it’s irrelevant. The decision was made 10,000 years ago when The First Kitteh was drawn to a human settlement by the promise of rodential prey in abundance.

Modern cats have no more say in the matter than we have in our ancestors slaughtering dodos. It happened. We can’t change the past.

The actress vs the ‘pedigree bitch’

The second bit of anti-feline sentiment comes from Jessie Buckley, an Irish actress who is weirdly proud of forcing her husband to ditch his two pet cats when they began dating. She talks as if she’s been waging a personal war against the species, and her reason for disliking felines also indicates a fundamental misunderstanding of their behavior.

Buckley’s comments were made on a podcast late in 2025, but resurfaced this week and went viral as her Oscar buzz reached its peak. On the podcast, Buckley said one of her husband’s cats was a “pedigree model bitch” who was orchestrating a “coup” against her.

She thinks the cat had it out for her: “I’d come home and there’d just be, like, poo on my pillow.”

This is actually sad, because people who really know cats, who understand why they behave certain ways, will immediately understand that they don’t have accidents out of spite. If the cat was eliminating outside her litter box, there was a legitimate underlying problem causing her a great deal of stress.

She could have been injured, she could have been sick, or she could have been plagued by the cumulative stress brought on by the presence of a hostile woman who ludicrously saw her as competition. Our furry friends are much more perceptive than generally realized, especially when it comes to our emotional states, and Buckley’s hostility would have been immediately apparent.

Buckley with co-star Paul Mezcal, who was equally enthusiastic in his intense dislike of felines, telling an interviewer: “Yeah, f— cats!”

Alas, Buckley didn’t reluctantly ask her then-boyfriend to give up his cats. She demanded it, then did a victory lap when he complied, which makes me suspect she was merely taking the whip out for a test drive before further commitment. If he’s willing to abandon two pets, he’s almost certainly going to be a pushover when she begins to prune his friends from his life, starts dressing him the way she likes, maybe even monitors his phone. *shudder*

“It’s me or the cats,” Buckley said she told her husband. “But I won!”

Congratulations, I guess?

The rage of cat lovers

As ludicrous as it seems, the backlash may cost Buckley an Oscar. Personally I don’t keep up with the approximately 200 awards ceremonies actors hold to fete themselves annually, but apparently Buckley turned in a solid performance in a movie called Hamnet.

She was considered the front-runner for an Academy Award. Now critics are openly wondering about her chances.

As always, these sorts of statements reveal a lot more about the people involved than they do about cats. I just wish people understood the species a little better, so maybe attitudes won’t default to anger or hostility if, say, a scared cat scratches a person who corners her, or a kitty with a stomach bug pukes on the carpet.

When a toddler gets sick, we don’t respond by yelling at the kid, blaming him and chasing him off. We make sure he’s okay, give him some medicine or take him to the doctor, and clean up the mess. Cats are essentially furry little toddlers, with the same innocence as children. When we adopt them, we agree to care for them.

Both Buckley and Docheii have been hammered on social media since their comments went viral, and it’s important to address that too. They expressed opinions. That doesn’t make them “pieces of s—,” “worthless human beings,” “scum” or any of the other nasty things some people have been saying.

We can disagree with them without overreacting, even in the age of dehumanizing online conversation.

Maintain yourselves!

And honestly, it makes all of us look bad. The day Walter Palmer returned to work is forever seared into my mind. Palmer was the American dentist who infamously and illegally lured Cecil the lion out of a protected area and killed him to take his head as a trophy in 2015.

Worse, Palmer — who had a history of getting in trouble for breaking the law while hunting — killed Cecil with a bow and arrow in order to claim some meaningless hunting record for himself and bungled the point-blank kill shot his guides had lined up for him. Cecil, who was an iconic lion with a distinct mane, suffered for hours before he died.

People were understandably angry, and protesters showed up outside Palmer’s office the day he returned to work. Most of them behaved themselves. But as Palmer made his way toward the front door of his dental practice, one of the protesters let loose a blood-curdling scream and shouted “WAAAAALTER PAAAAALMER!“, vowing vengeance for Cecil.

Palmer returning to work while media and protesters crowd him.

That moment of unhinged, unregulated rage overshadowed the good intentions of every person who registered their displeasure calmly and politely — and provided ample ammunition to those who enjoy painting all animal lovers as lunatics.

Buckley and Doechii expressed opinions we don’t like, and that’s their right. The best thing we can do is explain why they’ve misinterpreted feline behavior, and show them that cats really are loving, friendly animals — it just takes a little patience and trust. I say that as the faithful servant of a cat who can be particularly prickly and a complete lovebug, depending on the circumstance.

In the meantime, celebrities who hate cats should probably take a pass on broadcasting their intense dislike and save themselves the resulting headache. Sadly, we no longer have any sense of proportionality when it comes to disagreements, and no one gets a fair shake when things are litigated via social media.

Look At Him Go! Cat Enthusiastically Takes To Treadmill

Archie the cat, with his love of exercise, is the anti-Buddy.

This is unbelievable.

A three-year-old cat named Archie, who also hails from New York, loves running on his human’s treadmill. Mariah, his 27-year-old servant, keeps a close eye on the little guy while he gets his run in to make sure he doesn’t get hurt, but he seems entirely unperturbed and pumps his little legs, keeping a steady pace:

@mariah.sola

Archie is maintaining 3.0-3.2 our ultimate goal is 4.5MPH

♬ Young Black & Rich (Instrumental) – Melly Mike

Honestly, I can barely comprehend this. Bud would be more likely to engineer a treadmill into an automated system to deliver snacks to him so he doesn’t have to lift a paw. He is, after all, remarkably dedicated to the craft of being as lazy as possible.

Cheers to Archie for showing not all cats are loafing blobs!

Buddy Becomes New Age Guru, Says Path To Enlightenment Begins With Feeding Him

“Activate your chakras and, like, serve me turkey and stuff.”

Buddy the Cat sits in a lotus position, whiskers relaxed, with a serene expression on his face.

“As we enter the quantum realm of the mind and traverse the sacred lacuna leading to the mysteries of the cosmos, let us allow ourselves to drift, to feel the subtle tug of gravity asserting itself upon our quantum existences, so that we may reach simultaneous quantum enlightenment within the subatomic and macro universes,” Buddy says softly as a room full of his disciples imitate his posture.

Suddenly the chubby cat opens his eyes, scanning the room.

“And now the time has come,” he says, “for a quantum nap. Who would please the spirit of the cosmos by providing a suitably soft napping substrate?:

Buddy regains his kitten form after communing with the quantum alchemists of Epsilon Eridani, who grant him special powers after circumambulating a triple star system within a quantum starship and stuff.

Every hand shoots up, with disciples — or “quantum mignons,” in Buddesian parlance — begging to be chosen.

The guru pads along the rows of disciples, wrinkling his nose to “discern the most comfortable chakras,” before settling in the lap of Maelle, a 20-year-old exchange student from France.

“I feel so blessed to be chosen,” she confesses as Guru Buddy climbs into her lap.

“I shall meditate,” Buddy tells her with a yawn, “upon your anima as the soothing stillness of sleep embraces me, fortifying your spirit with an increase in your alpha quotient.”

Maelle nods excitedly. “Thank you, enlightened guru!”

“And remember,” Buddy says, “should you feel the call of nature or the need to adjust your position, meditate upon your quantum quantumness to fortify your, uh, quantums so you don’t disturb me.”

The tabby cat settles down, then opens one eye.

“I almost forgot,” he says, raising his meows so all can hear him. “Please prepare my post-nap feast, for the quantum processes of my restorative beauty sleep make me famished. Serving me delicious food is most pleasing to the cosmic pantheon. I shall now spirit-walk the galactic plane and commune with the ancient alchemists of Epsilon Eridani to probe the mysteries of dark matter and KFC Extra Crispy. Can someone bring me a quantum pillow?”



Q̷̞͎͉̞͉̺̪̰̮̠̹̇̌̋͝ư̷̢̧̪̼̺͙̹̝̇̍a̴̧͌̿̉́͛͝͝ņ̷̠̠͕͗̃̚t̸̗̠̼̻͕̺̗̼̺̼͙͇͐̅̉̅̂̈́͝ư̴̢̧̧̬͔̙̠̼̦̠̇̿̋̌̆̓̓̌̍̈́̎͜ͅm̶̢̰̹̠̣̦̥͚̑̍̓͗͊̀̾̑̋̽̄͜͠͠ ̴̡̭͆̍͆̆̐̕̕͜B̶͓͉̼͍̄͐̌͒̽̾̀̈̃͜͜͝ụ̴̡͉̠̮̗̦͉̅̍d̴̡̧̧̛̮͉̟͍͚͈͚̜̹͐̇̏͒͋̿̈́͑͌̕͝d̸̡̤̳̬̿̈́̾̀͌y̴̢͉̦̗̯̋̏̐͌̈́̀̓

Cat Beds, Feline Football Experts, And The ‘Elitism’ Of Paying For Veterinary Care

Do cats ever do what we want them to do?

I expected something truly extravagant when a reader wrote to Slate’s advice column to say she was considering doing something “wildly elitist” involving her cat.

What could it be? I wondered. Pure gold or silver eating and drinking bowls, a la Choupette? A fashionable $600 pet stroller like the young, childless women of Tokyo favor for their felines? Feeding premium meat from the butcher exclusively to her cat?

None of the above, it turns out. The allegedly “wildly elitist” thing this woman was deliberating was simply paying a veterinarian to have dental work done on her cat, with costs estimated at between $800 and $2,000, depending on the extent of the kitty’s cavities.

To make matters even stranger, the letter writer says the cost won’t be a financial hardship for her family. Their cat is only three years old, she notes, and the family has had him since he was found on the street as a kitten.

“I guess I didn’t think that part of taking him in would entail thousands of dollars to keep him alive at this stage of the game,” she wrote. “At what point do people draw the line on what it costs to save a cat’s life?”

Credit: Wikimedia Commons

The writer was essentially looking for “permission” to have the cat put down, for Slate’s advice columnist to virtually pat her on the head, say “There, there!” and agree that taking care of your own cat is “wildly elitist.”

Thankfully, Slate columnist Athena Valentine was having none of it, telling the woman seeking advice that “when you adopt an animal, you take financial responsibility.” Spending money on veterinary care when needed, Valentine noted, is “exactly what you signed up for” by adopting the little guy. A cat who, by the way, could easily live another decade at least.

“If you do not want to pay for your cat’s treatment, please surrender him to a rescue that will,” Valentine wrote. “The rescue will raise the funds you do not want to part with to pay for his teeth and will then adopt him out to a new home that understands the responsibilities of pet ownership. I also advise you to not adopt any more animals until you’re fully ready to accept the financial obligations that come with it.”

Cheers to Valentine for not taking the bait.

Do your feline overlords use their own beds?

One of the first things I bought for Bud, along with his litter box, bowls and toys, was a bed. It’s nothing extravagant, but it does look pretty comfortable.

He has never used it.

Or rather, he lounged on it a handful of times when he was a kitten, but he claimed my bed as his own. He was very clear on the new ownership situation, and generously allowed me to continue sleeping on my his bed as long as I accepted the fact that he would use me as a pillow, which he has been doing for more than a decade now.

A Newsweek story details the efforts of a woman who bought her cat a new bed, hoping he’d let her sleep at night, only for the feline overlord to drag his new bed onto her bed. Essentially, she bought him a new pillow.

Do cats ever do what we want them to? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

A cat whose fantasy soccer team ranked 222 out of 13 million players

At The Athletic, Conor Schmidt writes about creating a fantasy football (soccer) team for his cat, and letting the little guy choose who to draft and trade by writing the names of players on a dry erase board and putting treats next to each name. The first treat his cat goes for is the one whose associated player is dealt or drafted.

He says his cat reached an astonishing world ranking of 222 out of almost 13 million players on the same platform worldwide, which means either the little dude has incredible luck, or he’s a genius who knows a lot more than he lets on.

Maybe I should register a fantasy basketball or baseball team for Buddy, smear turkey gravy next to players’ names, and see how he does.

What’s Your Cat’s Petting Limit?

A netizen’s cat tolerated an astonishing 176 pets from his human!

An Instagrammer decided to test the limits of his feline overlords’ tolerance for pets, and it was instructional.

Porky, who looks like he’s a British shorthair, lasted 107 repetitions of his human’s hand rubbing his head before he’d had enough. His brother, Jim, lasted 176 repetitions!

Both are extraordinarily polite. Porky just got up and left when his human kept going despite clear signs that he was at his limit, like a swishing tail and shifting positions. Jim was still enjoying having his head stroked after the 100 pets mark.

I could not get away with this. Not even close.

First, Bud doesn’t like that kind of palm-open head petting. I’ve gotta be gentle and very precise, being careful not to touch his ears, which clearly annoys him. The limit is maybe…four? Five?

He likes it when I rub his cheek glands, under his chin, and around his jowls. I know enough to stop and let him give me a signal if he wants more.

He’ll move if he’s had enough, but if I’m not paying attention and I persist, he’s got no qualms about smacking me or biting down on my hand. He’s learned that warning bites should be gentle, but after a clear warning, all bets are off.

I was awarded with ELEVEN scratches on my left arm last week, although that was a case of misdirected aggression, not an overstimulation outburst. I should have seen it coming, since I know the signs indicating he’s frustrated about something and needs to release energy.

Yes, my cat is a jerk. Yes, I still love him. In fact, I’m glad he’s my Buddy and he didn’t end up with people who think cats do things out of spite, or would physically punish him for acting like a cat. A jerk of a cat, but a cat all the same.

He’s taught me to pay very close attention to body language, ears, whiskers, tail swishing, and all the other ways cats signal to us aside from verbalizing their feelings.

How do your feline masters respond to petting, and what are their limits?