Buddy the Cat’s female admirers, both feline and human, say he is a sexy beast.
NEW YORK — For the third night in a row, Buddy the Cat rolled onto his back, belched thunderously, and settled down for a restful nap surrounded by the devoured remnants of treats and snacks gifted to him for Valentine’s Day.
“It’s wonderful to be so loved that hundreds of Valentines Day packages are deliv…ooh, bacon-flavored crunchies!” Buddy said, breaking his train of thought after discovering six or seven of the little treats under a pile of opened and discarded packages.
“Where was I?” the bloated feline asked, blinking. “Oh yeah. It’s such a great feeling to have so many admirers that … mmmm, sandwich … every day brings new …* burp *! … gifts of food to sample and … oh, I love turkey gravy!”
The chubby tabby has been the recipient of countless Valentine’s Day gifts this year, reflecting his considerable popularity among females, both feline and human. He’s been eating his way through them with enthusiasm since the packages began arriving.
Witnesses report the well-fed feline was unable to complete a sentence without getting distracted and stopping to shovel food into his mouth mid-sentence.
“He only stops eating when he falls asleep,” one witness told PITB. “At this rate, his human will have to roll him around like a boulder because, frankly, I’m not sure anyone makes a cat carrier with material strong enough to lift him without ripping apart.”
As of press time, Buddy had fallen asleep with a sloppy hand-written note taped to his forehead, asking visitors to leave Valentine’s Day gifts in one of the 27 provided baskets.
In the seedy underbelly of Paw City, where niplords run kitty crack empires and feral gangs fight eternal turf wars, one unshakable detective brings the bad cats to justice.
The call came in after midnight.
Shots fired near Burmese Boulevard, with witnesses reporting one party fleeing the scene in a car while another took off on foot.
Normally I’d tend to other biz and let one of the kids in the detective bureau have their shot, but the commissioner’s on my ass and the mayor is worried about what the headlines will do to the tourism economy.
Leave it to the leaders of a dump like Paw City to care more about the scratch in their pockets than the felines they’re supposed to protect.
But I’m a grizzled detective. I know where the real power naps, and it ain’t city hall.
It’s Scratcher Tower, home of the international consortium that runs Big Yums, controlling the flow of every last morsel of kibble into this forsaken city. The Fat Cats on the top floor, they call the shots, control the mayor and have their paws in every pie. If it’s biz, the Fat Cats get their cut.
The feds? They talked a big game last year when they popped Angelo Felinzino and nailed him on a racketeering charge that earned him 15 to 20 in the slammer. But the Fat Cats are a hydra, and even though Felinzino was rumored to be the consortium’s top earner, the fellas in Scratcher Tower’s penthouse didn’t miss a beat.
It was pouring by the time I pulled up near the corner of Tortoiseshell Street and Burmese Boulevard. I padded out of the warm comfort of my ride, the Budmobile, and told it to watch my back. The Budmobile’s AI chimed in acknowledgement and miniature silos opened on each rear quarter panel, ejecting a pair of drones. One drone circled above me in a defensive posture while the other zoomed ahead, scouting my path.
I tasted wet rain and something else. My nose wrinkled, pulling me toward a funky scent. I crouched, sniffing the sidewalk, and that’s when I saw them: crumbs made soggy by the downpour, their addictive chemicals turning a shade of toxic lime as they interacted with the acid rain.
Tempheads are dangerous. They’ll do anything to get their fix, even if it means stealing from littermates or breaking into homes to raid the treat cupboards.
No Temphead was going to catch me off guard, I thought as I placed a paw on my holster and felt the reassuring grip of Thunderclaw. The old revolver was reliable and had legitimate stopping power. The sight of it alone was often enough to get bad guys to back down.
Lightning cracked the sky as I followed the crumbs down Burmese Boulevard, under the old wrought iron bridge and into a back alley.
I paused and sniffed. The Temphead had lingered here at the door to a shady-looking ripperdoc clinic, probably trying to get them to buzz him in. The ripperdoc was smart, didn’t want anyone bringing heat down on his clinic, so he turned the Temphead away.
My keen sense of smell and my detective’s intuition told me the Temphead quickly moved on, and sure enough, there were more crumbs ahead, where the alley made a sharp right turn toward a cross street.
I padded ahead, nose leading the way, and looked up.
The Bradbury Building.
Once a symbol of commerce in the city’s gilded age, now a dilapidated microcosm of Paw City, its former glory obscured beneath decades of grime and decay.
Patting Thunderclaw again for reassurance, I pushed against the heavy bronze doors and into the gloom inside.
My ears prickled in the funereal silence, and my whiskers felt movement in the air currents. There!
A shadowy figure was heading for one of the exits.
Justice is my job, and what kind of cat would I be if I didn’t have the swiftness of a cheetah and the bravery of a tiger?
I leaped the railing, landing gracefully on my feet as I always do, and followed the shadow through the door. The rain was coming down hard, battering my trenchcoat and cap.
Where’d that cat go?
He was clever, I’ll give him that. Lightning lit the alley, and he used the crackle of thunder to mask the sound of his feet splashing through the puddles before he leaped.
I never even saw it coming. It’s been a long time since anyone’s gotten the jump on me. Maybe I was too confident. The attacker barreled into me, knocking me off my feet, and was already propelling himself up a nearby fire escape as I landed in a puddle of rain water.
Thunderclaw was torn from my grip with the impact and went skidding across the concrete.
The Budmobile’s follow drone chose that moment to reappear, making a lazy loop around the alley before stopping to hover in front of me, its ventral nozzles firing whispers of propellant to keep it stabilized.
“Oh dear,” the drone said, “you seem to have fallen, sir. Shall I bring the car around?”
“This,” I told myself, “is undignified.”
The drone chimed.
“Is that a yes, sir?”
I resisted the urge to paw smack the useless machine.
“Yes! Call the Budmobile to the end of the alley.”
I might have been Paw City’s greatest detective, but I wasn’t going to catch criminals with my clothes and fur all wet, smelling like a dirty mutt.
I retrieved Thunderclaw from the ground, slipping the trusty revolver back into its holster.
That’s when I saw it — a scrap of torn clothing on the end of the fire escape, black as night. Black like the absence of light.
I ran a paw pad over the material, feeling its familiar weave and texture. There was only one shop in this section of Paw City that sold zero albedo clothing. Could the Shadow Void be back to stalk the seedy underbelly of Paw City once again? I put him in the slammer once. Now I may have to do it again.
I climbed back into the Budmobile, grateful for the blast of heat from its dash. It was time to pay Tommy the Tailor a visit…
Check back for the next episode of Detective Buddy: Feline Noir!
After learning that wildcats — including jaguars, tigers and ocelots — love Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men, Buddy the Cat explores the world of colognes to find one that drives domestic kitties crazy.
Earlier we wrote about the accidental discovery that ocelots respond enthusiastically to Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men. Subsequent experiments proved jaguars and tigers are particularly fond of the scent as well.
Then a reader’s comment posed a question so obvious, we’re ashamed we didn’t think of it ourselves: do domestic kitties like colognes?
To find out, we asked Buddy the Cat, aka Little Buddy, to evaluate several fragrances. He’s taken the assignment seriously and provided thoughtful analysis, giving us just a hint of what it’s like to have an incredibly keen feline sense of smell.
Dolce and Gabbana Pour Homme
“The first ecstatic whiff takes me back to kittenhood. Days napping in the sun and chasing flies. Fresh cut grass and fragrant foliage. I was so deep into my reverie that the base notes nearly bowled me over when they arrived suddenly in their regal glories, like a king’s entourage without a herald. Rich cedar and musk evoke hours spent luxuriating in the potent funk of my human’s sneakers. Quiet woods and spices, like a litter box a day after feasting on rabbit, gently whisper of naps. Buddy likes this one!”
Cool Water by Davidoff
“Its initial briny hints conjure impressions of a dock at low tide, fish baking in the sun while a graybeard captain lights his pipe. Through confident middle notes, its warm embrace gently tugs you inward, like an antiquarian beckoning you inside a rare book shop with a rodent infestation. Aged leather book bindings and dark oak react provocatively with the paw-licking intensity of decadent mouse urine. Meowgnificent!”
Jaguar by Jaguar
“A carnival of candy for the nose, like accompanying your human to the bathroom post-Chipotle! The first hints arrive furtively, like a disguised aristocrat casting nervous glances as he makes a beeline for a brothel. Then it asserts itself in force: an army of jaguars advancing in the moonlight, their meowscles rippling in the silver mist, scent-marking in unison! Musk, civetone, ammonia. Pheromonic bliss!”
Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche
“Powerful but restrained, like a certain silver tabby in his carrier, a single spritz of this magnificent scent conjures memories of halcyon days as a young feline. Mid notes whisper of woods and spices, a grove of wild catnip undulating in a summer breeze. Underneath it all is an unshakable foundation of warmth, like being swaddled in my human’s t-shirt after it’s been worn on a humid 97 degree day.”
Tyrannosaurus Rex by Zoologist
“Bergamot and verdant iridescence arrive as our olfactory escorts, ushering us in to a delectably frisky gourmand accord. It’s as if we’re drifting on chocolate seas with vanilla currents playfully nudging us to shore where beefy undertones await. Umami! Steaks sizzle, beckoning our noses toward the grill, stomachs rumbling. A most delicious scent!”
So there you have it. T Rex emerges as the winner in this round, but can it compare to mainstays by Yves Saint Laurent and Giorgio Armani? Only Buddy can tell us. Tune in next time as we accompany the Budster on an aromatic journey!
Buddy’s Cat Café and Catnip Lounge has become a neighborhood fixture where feline lovers can enjoy their favorite caffeinated beverages while lavishing snacks and catnip on Buddy himself.
NEW YORK — When Buddy’s Cat Café and Catnip Lounge first opened its doors in late 2023, skeptics were quick to predict its demise.
“A cat cafe featuring only one cat sounds more like the selfish plot of the proprietor feline and less like a legitimate cat cafe experience,” the New York Times sniffed, while the New York Post derided the venture as “one chubby cat’s ludicrous scheme to gorge on endless snacks and catnip while customers line up to shower him with affection.”
Two years later, with a 4.8 out of 5 rating on Google and hundreds of regulars, Buddy’s Cat Café has not only been a success, it’s inspired other felines to open their own single-cat locations.
Mrs. Nakamura watches her students interact with Buddy, affectionately known to them as Badi-chan.
Mrs. Tomoko Nakamura, a teacher at the Japanese Academy of Manhattan, has been taking her class to Buddy’s since the cafe opened.
“Badi-chan very handsome and charming,” Mrs. Nakamura said, smiling as her students giggled and offered an array of crunchy treats to the lounging feline. “All my students love him!”
Sisters Dierdre and Stephanie Sullivan are regulars who say they take their kids to Buddy’s almost weekly.
“Madisyn, Skyelarr and Jaxon just love little Buddy,” Stephanie Sullivan said, calling other cat cafes “a tragedeigh in comparison.”
Buddy and friends during a Tabletop Tuesdays gathering at Buddy’s Cat Café and Catnip Lounge.
Since its opening, Buddy’s has featured an array of themed nights that cater to regulars with shared interests.
On Saturdays a lively crowd of people wearing perms, neon clothes and big shoulder pads flock to the cafe for Retro 80s Night. Sunday crowds gather to watch football with Buddy on the big screen TV, and Tabletop Tuesdays cater to miniature wargamers, with Buddy and his regulars continuing long-running campaigns in Dungeons and Dragons and Warhammer 40K.
One of the most popular themed nights is Freestyle Fridays, when local rappers and hip hop heads gather to spit bars, smoke blunts and collaborate on beats.
DJ Rashid, center, jubilantly hoists Buddy while the others cheer on a recent Freestyle Friday at Buddy’s Cat Cafe.Buddy after indulging in too much catnip on Freestyle Friday.
Da Ill Collektah, a local underground emcee, rolls catnip blunts for the tabby proprietor so he can fully participate in the levity.
“Oh, that’s good ish!” Buddy said on a recent Friday as he exhaled a nimbus cloud of ‘nip smoke to cheers from the assembled hip hop heads.
“Watch out!” beatsmith Biggity Biggity Bryce exclaimed. “Buddy gonna bless us with a fiyah freestyle!”
Lysander The Lyrical Destroyer, a Brooklyn emcee and longtime “associate” of Buddy, said no other cat cafe could hope to compete.
“Buddy’s cafe got the freshest jams, the livest atmosphere, and the bang bang boogie don’t stop the boogie,” he noted. “But most of all, it’s got Buddy.”
The gray tabby cat’s inaugural dance was sabotaged by former sitcom star Steve Urkel and the cousin of the Shamwow guy.
LOS ANGELES — After vowing to “dance circles around” his human competition and become the first feline winner of Dancing With The Stars, Buddy the Cat was unceremoniously sent home from the competition show following an argument with a judge.
Expectations were high when the celebricat was announced as one of a dozen famous booty-shakers on season 78 of the long-running series, especially after he was paired with Alina Gromova, a well-liked professional ballroom dancer who has three Mirrorball Trophy wins under her belt.
Hype reached a fever pitch with a regular trickle of short clips showing the partners practicing in the weeks leading up to the premiere, and the pair seemed to be in sync.
But their performance on the season’s inaugural broadcast left viewers and judges alike scratching their heads.
Things seemed to be going smoothly as Buddy and Gromova grooved to Jamiroquai’s Canned Heat, but quickly fell apart when fellow contestant David Ofer, second cousin of Vince “The Shamwow Guy” Ofer, dug into his pockets and tossed a handful of Temptations onto the dance floor.
Buddy’s head immediately snapped toward the direction of the crunchy, delectable, incredibly irresistible treats, and he shuffled his way over, vacuuming them up in a series of smooth motions with a flourish before joining hands with Gromova again.
White, the former sitcom star, conspired with Ofer to sabotage Buddy’s performance.
She recovered quickly, spinning and kicking in sync with her feline partner, but Jaleel White — who played Steve Urkel on the long-running sitcom Family Matters in the late 1980s and early 90s — was spotted surreptitiously crinkling a paper bag and misting one corner of the dance floor with catnip spray.
Buddy spun around and executed a series of Travolta-esque hip-twist-and-point maneuvers in the direction of the ‘nip scent. Gromova tried to keep him focused, but the frustrated feline rushed White and bit down hard on his foot as ripples of shock spread through the audience.
“Obviously, a bunch of the D-list contestants felt they couldn’t compete with Buddy’s charm and his mastery of movement, so they decided to sabotage him, the cowards,” one fan huffed in a reaction video on TikTok. “Buddy should be on his way to the second round while his saboteurs should be sent home.”
Other contestants — including the Guy From Limp Bizkit, Hawk Tuah Girl and Kanye West — were forced to wait while the judges tore into Buddy and the feline responded in kind.
“Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. What a terrible day to have eyes!” said longtime judge Len Goodman, shaking his head in dismay. “You call that a cha-cha?”
Steam jetted from Buddy’s swiveling radar ears.
“It was a cha-cha!” he spat back.
“Not in any universe I’ve lived in, dear fellow,” Goodman said.
“It was the definition of a cha-cha!” Buddy argued. “It had cha, and then even more cha! Cha in abundance! Look up ‘cha-cha’ in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of me dancing in a bow tie. Now give me a 10 this instant!”
The camera caught Gromova pressing both hands to her temples while William Forrest, who played a Wookie in 1983’s Return of the Jedi, nervously waited for his chance to dance.
Eventually two burly security guards lumbered up to the stage and grabbed the gray tabby, who screamed in protest.
“I have friends at court! Powerful friends!” he shouted. “The Queen herself made me a lord!”
Lord Janos Slynt, seen here, was quoted by Buddy as the feline was escorted off the show. Credit: HBO
“What is he on about?” Goodman asked.
“I think that’s from Game of Thrones,” fellow judge Carrie Ann Inaba said. “When Lord Tyrion banished Lord Janos Slynt to the Wall, remember?”
“That was a good episode,” host Alfonso Ribeiro said.
While White and Ofer both advanced to the second round, former 1990s infomercial personality Billy Blanks, best known for his Tae Bo series of exercise VHS tapes, remained the odds-on favorite to become the celebrity winner this season.
Pain In The Bud 