Tag: cat sitter

Buddy The Cat Threatens War With His Human Over Ren Faire Snub

After finding out his human attended the Maryland Renaissance Faire over the weekend — where vendors sold giant turkey drumsticks, roasted turkey and fried turkey — Buddy the Cat threatened military action against his human.

The silver tabby cat was magnanimous and didn’t give his human the cold shoulder after the latter returned home after several days away, but flew into a rage when he saw photos of the Renaissance faire.

“What is this?” the angry cat said, confronting his human with photos of a stall offering plump turkey legs. “You knew they had all sorts of turkey and you didn’t bring me?!? Et tu, Big Buddy?”

Sources say Buddy was last seen mumbling about “raising [his] legions” and stewing in anger over his human’s thoughtless actions.

“I was left here all alone for three days with only someone coming by to feed me pate while you attended a festival, drank meade and had a grand old time?” Buddy asked.

The feline’s anger intensified after his human pointed out his cat sitter used to happily play with him until he attacked her on two of the three previous occasions she cared for him.

“Fake news!” Buddy yelled. “Erroneous! You must make right this grave injustice, human, or face my wrath! And by correcting this grave injustice, I mean only turkey will salve my wounds.”

Guess Who Attacked His Cat Sitter? (Again)

I’ve been in Washington, D.C. the last few days and have left Buddy in the care of his long-time sitter, a friend who has known him since he was a kitten.

You may recall I wrote about howhe attacked her back in the summer of 2020, but she’s such a nice person that she continued to look after him, including during my trip to the Outer Banks earlier this year and my current absence.

If she won’t care for Buddy in the future, I can’t blame her. Bud attacked her this time for the unspeakable crime of…playing with him! (She’s had several cats of her own, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how to interact with a feline.)

I fear I am going to have to hire men armed with tactical gear and ballistic shields, who will breach the apartment, refill Bud’s bowls under the protection of a phalanx of shields, and then make careful egress without taking their eyes off him.

Either that or board him, which probably won’t go well.

Ah well. I’ll see him tomorrow. He’ll probably run to the door to greet me and rub up against me, then remember he’s supposed to be mad at me. He’ll give me a dismissive “Hrrrrrrmmmmph!” and pad off to ignore me for as long as he can before returning to his normal behavior.

Seven Thousand And One!

The streak continues!

Buddy's House
“I make the rules, human!”

Buddy had to wait an extra day for my return from the Outer Banks due to the snowstorm, which made a mess of the roads, led to canceled flights and would have been miserable — and impossible — to drive through. My SiL’s brother tried to drive through it and gave up after 13 hours, getting as far as just north of Washington, D.C., before booking a hotel room and driving the rest of the way to New York the next day.

As expected, little dude tried to play it cool at first. He couldn’t stop himself from getting up and going to the door, but he played it off like “Hey, you’re home. That’s cool, I guess.” Then he nonchalantly padded away.

The indifferent act lasted for about 15 minutes, as usual, before Bud forgot he was supposed to be mad at me. He hopped up to the couch and started nuzzling and scent-rubbing on me, happily purring.

However, it took him longer than usual to act like his normal self, and he’s been particularly clingy since then. At one point I put on my coat and shoes to get a bag I’d left in the car, and Bud started nervously pacing, loudly vocalizing and sat down in front of the door as if to say “No! Big Buddy stays here!”

I think he does okay if someone’s here with him, but having a cat sitter stop by once a day probably doesn’t cut it anymore. Partly that’s Bud’s fault for attacking her last time, because she won’t play with him anymore, but I’ll have to think about alternatives next time I’m away for more than two days or so.

I took some photos of OBX and will post them this week after I’ve had time to sort them. We were very fortunate, with 65-degree days for the entire stretch, and even in winter there’s lots of interesting history to see on the islands where two Americans first achieved powered flight, colonies disappeared and notorious pirates stashed their treasure.

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Oh Big Buddy, Why Have You Abandoned Me?

Day Four: Here I exist in solitary confinement, without anyone to meow to or sleep on.

If a Buddy meows for snacks and no one is around to hear him, do his meows exist?

These are the questions I ponder as hour after silent hour ticks by, my stomach rumbling. (Nice lady stops by only once a day to feed me, oh woe is me!)

Oh how I miss the halcyon days when delicious snacks were an insistent meow away, when I’d lounge on Big Buddy’s legs and in his lap for hours as we watched Squid Game!

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Oh how I miss slapping his face with my paw, then sitting directly on his face and meowing into his ear for breakfast, knowing I’d successfully woken him when he yelled “I’m going to sell you to Shezhuan Garden II, you annoying little jerk!”

I am on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, ready to present my contribution to quantum mechanics in which I posit that a new, heretofore unknown fundamental particle, the Turkon, exists at the subatomic level.

Without a human here to dictate to, how will I submit my findings to a prestigious journal?

Meanwhile my human is probably frolicking on the beach, basking in the sunshine and warmth of a 70-degree Outer Banks January day.

It’s going to take A LOT of snacks, massages and “good boys” to make this right.

I Smell Treason In The Air!

A special message from Buddy:

There is treason in the air, dear readers! I can smell it, just as surely as I can smell an open tin of catnip from three rooms away.

There has been increased laundry activity, hushed talk of a place called North Carolina, and the suspiciously early decommissioning of the Christmas tree.

My food has been inventoried and a portion of it set aside. I am not very good at math, but it appears to be at least four or fivedays’ worth of perfect portions wet food in addition to kibble.

The Great Cabinet of Yums

Most distressing of all, Big Buddy has changed into the same shirt three nights in a row: The very shirt he leaves on the bed when he goes away, believing his scent will comfort me. (Perhaps it does for less sophisticated creatures like dogs. Oh, to be so simple-minded!)

I know based on past experience that someone will enter my realm daily to feed me and give me fresh water. I also know it’s likely going to be the nice lady who used to play with me after feeding me…until I attacked her the last time she was my cat sitter.

It seemed like the right move at the time, but I regret it now. She will probably feed me and run out. 😦

What I’d like to know is: What did I do to deserve this betrayal? Shouldn’t I go with Big Buddy to this mysterious place called the Outer Banks? And what makes the Outer Banks so special, anyway? The low interest rates? The free checking accounts? A cool vault with one of those big, heavy doors you see in movies?

I guess it’s not all bad. I’ve only been sleeping 13 hours a night lately, so some down time will allow me to catch up on my beauty rest.

Also, the entire place could do with a thorough scent-marking, and not having a human around means there won’t be any complaining about it.

But who will I sleep on? Who will give me snacks when I meow for them? Who will tell me I’m a good boy and scratch my head?