Caption a photo of the world’s most Buddinese feline!
Is he yawning? Screaming in terror before dashing behind my legs? Reacting to someone spilling the tea about a friend? Awestruck at a giant turkey?
Well, that’s up to you!
Vakuum, the terror of many a cat, was put on notice by Buddy’s display of astonishing bravery. If AI and robots ever try to take over the Earth, Buddy is a natural choice to lead the combined armies of cats and men to victory over the machines.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat was particularly pleased with himself on Thursday after he successfully scared off one of his mortal enemies by using his powerful roar.
The gray tabby cat had just finished his second Food O’Clock meal of the day and was settling down for 5th Nap when the infernal machine known as Vakuum the Disturberizer encroached upon the Buddesian domicile and began its high-pitched shriek.
While previously he’d hiss at the accursed machine and retreat to the safety of the bedroom, Buddy decided to put his paw down, sources said. It was time to make a stand.
Rising up to his full height of almost a foot, Buddy let loose a mighty, blood-curdling roar — and was shocked when Vakuum immediately stopped making its pestiferous racket.
“That machine took one look at me and decided it didn’t want a piece of this,” Buddy said, his primordial pouch jiggling as he flexed. “It helps to be a meowscular and intimidating cat, you know. We jaguars are quite ferocious when we need to be.”
A spokescat for the Yguara Nation of the Americas confirmed that while Buddy is an honorary jaguar and was bestowed the name Kinich Bajo, meaning “Tiny Sun-Eyed One,” he is not in fact an actual jaguar.
Suitors are lined up for the cream-coated Burmese feline, who inherited an estimated $13 million fortune when her fashion designer human died.
Simba may have stolen a kiss with Choupette at the end of a moonlight walk, and Oreo may have scored by bringing her to a candle-lit hot tub, but most of the toms on The Bachelorette: Choupette remained focused on shading Buddy.
Perhaps because he’s widely viewed as a frontrunner for the affections of the cream-furred Birman, other toms hoping for her paw in marriage claimed they were not impressed by Buddy’s antics.
The silver tabby’s date with Choupette consisted of a simple meal of turkey pate, some after-dinner grooming and couch-scratching, and finally a bird-watching session, with both felines chirping away at a flock that had chosen an epic oak nearby.
“It’s almost like he’s saying ‘I don’t care about your fortune, Choupette, I’m here for you,’ which is frankly revolting,” said Loki, a four-year-old British shorthair. “Everyone knows I’m the only one who really cares about Choupette.”
Choupette, the famous companion and muse to late German fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld, is worth an estimated $13 million thanks to her inheritance.
The young season got off to a rough start last week with confusion during the rose ceremony.
“What’s this for?” contestant Tux said after Choupette gave him a rose.
“She’s sending you home, dude,” said Jasper, a handsome Maine Coon.
“Wait, I thought that was the immunity idol,” Buddy interjected.
“It’s not an immunity idol, dummy!” Jasper said. “Wrong reality show. Sheesh, don’t you watch Real Housewives?”
The cats argued about it for several minutes until an angry Choupette told them to stop their meowing, and in the end it was Oliver, a seven-year-old Chartreux, who was sent home.
“Oh yeah, well I didn’t want a stupid rose anyway!” Oliver said, belching loudly as he left the mansion.
Choupette’s next decision may have been made for her when Garfield, a ginger tabby, said the quiet part out loud in a poem he wrote about the feline heiress.
“Oh Choupette, your fur is so creamy,” Garfield recited, “your eyes are so blue, and your fortune is so dreamy. Our mansion will have scratchers on every…”
“Stop!” Choupette said, turning to the producers. “Send him home!”
“Choupette, my love! Don’t do this!” Garfield called over his shoulder as two burly tigers hauled him away. “Was it something I said?”
Buddy the Cat praises the many comfortable lounging spots at Casa de Buddy, while Buddy the Cat blasts his human for sitting in his favorite spot! Who’s right?
You know what I like about our my home, human? It affords me seemingly endless comfortable places to lounge and nap.
There’s the rug underneath the dinner table, which is soft and makes me feel well-protected with a roof over my head and chairs blocking access to anyone larger than me.
There’s your padded fake leather office chair, which not only retains your butt heat, but is also a fabulous item to scratch.
There’s my bed, which used to be your bed, which I graciously still allow you to use 22.3 percent of. Oh, and the wonderful raised platform above my scratcher, where I can watch birds safely and make weird noises when they fly. In the winter, the radiator provides a toasty alternative to draftier spots.
When I was but a kitten, I never dreamed of having such a vast realm to call my own, with so many comfortable places to be lazy.
Indeed, there’s no place like home, and no places like my spots.
Come on! Get up!
This is not funny. You know that’s my favorite spot! The left side of the couch is comfortable, warm, gives me a good view of everything, and smells like you.
Get up! Get up! If you don’t vacate the premises immediately I will be forced to disappear, wait until you’re distracted, then nearly give you a heart attack with a well-timed ambush.
Or perhaps I will take my spot anyway by sitting on your head. How foolish would you look then, eh human?
Yes, there are plenty of other places for me to rest but I like this one because you’re sitting in it.
Grrrr, fine! But I’m sleeping on top of you, so if you need to heed nature’s call, do it now, human. I don’t like to be disturbed by your bathroom trips. Also, could you try to breathe a little less? It’s just that when I’m laying on your chest, I can feel your exhales on my fur and it’s really annoying. If you could keep breathing to a minimum, that’d be great.
With some muscle to back him up, Buddy the Cat becomes the scourge of the neighborhood.
NEW YORK — Taking refuge from the heat of an unusually humid early June day, cats and dogs alike were gathered around the neighborhood’s most popular watering hole when their quiet lapping was disturbed by a kittenish, falsetto-like meow.
“Coming through!” Buddy the Cat yelled. “Make way!”
The silver tabby ordered everyone to “vacate the premises,” declaring the water his “personal drinking spot.” One of the toughest cats on the block, a battle-scarred orange tom named Buster, continued drinking.
“Ahem!” Buddy said loudly. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Vacate the pond, Buster!”
Buster eyed Buddy derisively. “Or else what, pip squeak?”
Buddy pretended to file his claws nonchalantly.
“Or else my jaguar is not going to be happy,” Buddy replied.
Buster began laughing, then caught sight of the enormous apex predator and backed up warily.
“That’s right!” Buddy said. “Back up if you don’t want to become a light snack, Buster!”
Ek B’alam, Buddy’s jaguar friend, raised a paw sheepishly.
“Um, do we have to threaten violence? I’m not interested in hurting…”
“Shhhh! Yes, yes we do have to threaten them!” Buddy whispered. “Let’s see that intimidating pose you do…great, now roar!”
The jaguar let loose a primal rumble, sending every cat, dog, bird and squirrel within a mile running for cover.
After enjoying a leisurely drink with the pond to themselves, Buddy and Ek B’alam took a lazy route to a nearby dog park where the pair terrorized a pitbull and a gang of Dobermans.
Witnesses said Buddy strolled into the Doberman circle, needled the dogs with insults and told them they’d have to hand over their treats promptly or face dire consequences.
“Oh yea?” the canine leader said, his tail twitching with anticipation. “Says who?”
“Says my jaguar!” Buddy said theatrically, holding both paws out like a magician.
The dogs paused, looked at each other and laughed uproariously.
“Get outta here, you pudgy little…oh! Oh! He’s really got a jag…I mean, I d-d-didn’t…”
Buddy feigned indifference as Ek B’alam padded out from behind a tree. The dogs emptied their bladders.
“You were saying something about me being pudgy, weren’t you? We don’t like insulting little mutts, do we, Ek B’alam?”
“No, we do not, Buddy,” the big cat replied.
“Sometimes we eat them for breakfast, don’t we, Ek B’alam?”
“Yes we do, Buddy. Better than bacon and eggs, with an agreeable aftertaste!”
The dogs whimpered, tails between their legs.
“Leave your toys and treats and scram!” Buddy said, making the canines flinch as he faked a leap toward them.
“You were right, this is kinda fun!” Ek B’alam said as he ate the dogs’ snacks. “Who do we terrorize next?”
Buddy rested his chin on his right paw thoughtfully.
“We could rob Los Gatos of every ounce of catnip they possess. We could put the fear of God into those ‘hunters’ who shoot at our puma buddies. I also have a revenge list of everyone who ever insulted me on the internet. That could be fun!”
As of late Tuesday night, local police scanner frequencies were buzzing with reports of two cats, one small and the other enormous, gleefully tearing apart industrial vacuum cleaners at a nearby Stanley Steemer shop.
Pain In The Bud 