Witnesses praised the slothful feline’s dedication to the path of least resistance.
NEW YORK — In a sluggish ballet involving gravity, the malleability of couch cushions and an ironclad commitment to expending minimal effort, Buddy the Cat unburdened the couch of his weight on Saturday.
Sources said the feline signaled his intent to leave the couch with a subtle shift of his weight, applying just enough pressure to angle the cushion downward and allow gravity to assert its tug on his portly frame.
What followed was a 15-minute process sources described as “like watching the last glob of ketchup slide out of a glass bottle.” Yawning with the non-effort, Buddy allowed gravity to shift his bulk millimeter by millimeter until part of his pudgy primordial pouch and one chonky leg dangled over the edge of the cushion.
Buddy pictured shortly before committing to his gravity-assisted dismount.
Within another five minutes the remarkably lazy tabby cat had crossed a gravitational Rubicon and the edge of the cushion gave way, allowing him to drip languidly off the side of the couch and onto the floor.
Shifting his weight just enough to begin the slow process of sliding off the cushion.
Buddy sat up, licked his left paw, then roused himself with a trill and sauntered over to his dining nook to lap up some water.
“It’s a bit like watching paint dry, but I applaud his unwavering commitment to laziness,” said a witness. “This is obviously a cat for whom even the thought of burning a single calorie is deeply offensive.”
Buddy was last seen screeching at his human to fetch him a snack to replenish his “electrolytes and stuff” after his arduous walk to his bowls in the adjacent room.
The latest viral cat story offers a lesson in healthy skepticism in today’s news environment.
Viral news accounts on social media and less scrupulous news sites have been buzzing this week about a school lockdown in Moses Lake, Washington, which was reportedly caused by a teacher confusing a particularly fat cat for a puma.
I saw red flags immediately while reading the story. While it did give a specific location, it was suspiciously devoid of other details, and the wording on all the posts and stories was dubiously similar. Additionally, a Google news search doesn’t turn up anything recent from reputable press.
Then there’s the photo, which looks a little too good to be true.
This photo is a Getty stock image and does not depict the domestic cat in the school lockdown story, despite accompanying it in dozens of news posts.
So did a school really go into lockdown after a case of mistaken feline identity?
Yes, but it happened in November of 2023, and the photo of the obese cat making the rounds in stories this week does not depict the cat in question. The original story was published by a local news site on Nov. 22, 2023, and says the school went into lockdown at 10:30 that morning, but was quickly lifted after staff confirmed there was no puma stalking the school grounds.
“…educators soon learned that the mountain lion was in fact, a “fat cat eating a rat,” according to the school memo to parents.
‘While we take all reports seriously, this was the first report we’ve ever had of this nature,’ the school wrote in a statement.
Despite the benign nature of it all, safety measures resumed to safeguard students and staff. Classes resumed as normal after a short period of time. “
As for the photo, the particularly rotund moggie’s image is a stock photo from Getty. It was used in a story about feline obesity in 2017 and an April 2018 story from the New York Daily News about public outrage in Jefferson, Iowa, where the police were shooting feral cats instead of dispatching animal control or working with local shelters.
Since the image is from a photo agency and predates the original story about the Washington school lockdown by at least six years, we can rule it out as an image of the feline mistaken for a mountain lion while settling down to a feast of fresh rat.
A deceptive image used to promote the story on Facebook.
So what happened here, and why are so many news sites and channels reporting this incident as if it just happened, accompanied by a deceptive photo that is not credited to Getty?
It’s classic clickbait. That is to say, some administrator or editor saw the old story picking up traffic or noticed a blip in certain search strings, and republished the story as if it’s new while omitting the original date.
Others noticed and followed suit to get the clicks while the getting’s good, fighting over the scraps that fall from the Zuckerbergian table in the form of ad revenue. The story is simple, sharable, has been paired with an amusing image, and is exactly the sort of thing people love to post and comment on via social media.
It’s a reminder to all of us to be skeptical about what we read, and to never take anything on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok et al at face value. In fact, it’s best to ignore anything on those platforms presented as news or fact. Everyone’s got their own preferences, but here at Casa de Buddy, we like the Wall Street Journal, Reuters, The Guardian, Associated Press, al Jazeera, the BBC, and aggregators like RealClearPolitics.
That doesn’t mean they’re above reproach or that everything they produce is a sparkling example of journalism, but they’re institutions that operate under the traditional rules, staffed by professionals who take pride in trying to get stories right. I’ll take that any day over a random Facebook account run by some shady guy in Macedonia or Belarus, who will post anything as “news” as long as it brings him clicks and ad revenue.
The challenges of getting a lazy cat interested in play time and toys again.
Buddy is friendly, outgoing and incredibly vocal, but he’s always been a bit lazy.
His preferred method of getting down from the couch isn’t jumping — although he does jump sometimes — it’s slowly oozing off the cushion like he’s liquid, taking the path of least resistance and letting gravity do all the work until he drops down and lands with a “Mmmrrrrrppp!”
When we wake up, the first thing he does is demand a snack, then he lays down for First Nap, apparently because the act of chewing and swallowing is so demanding.
“Now’s an excellent time for a nap.”
While he used to chase the laser with a fury and jump several times his own height to paw at it — even after figuring out it’s light fired out of a pen held by me — nowadays he can’t be bothered. At best he halfheartedly chases it for a bit and then loses interest even though I make an effort to move the laser like prey, as I do with his wand toys.
Worst of all, catnip makes him even lazier because he doesn’t just sniff the damn stuff, he eats it. I try to get him interested in his favorite wand toy when he’s buzzing on a heady combination of ‘nip and silver vine, but he won’t chase it. He just rolls onto his back and paws at it lazily, maybe getting in a few “rabbit kicks” if he’s feeling feisty.
All of this would be funny if he wasn’t about to turn 10 years old and if he didn’t tip the scale at about a pound and a half to two pounds above his normal body weight when the vet weighed him a few months ago.
“Hey fat boy!” I tell him, getting the familiar “Brrrrrr!” in response. (He’s a big time triller. Feline linguists estimate at least 60 percent of the Buddinese dialect consists of trills of various pitch, length and intensity.)
Fat Boy lost most of the excess weight during a particularly brutal stretch when he screeched at me for snacks constantly and I had to deny him most of the time. At least with kids you can explain things to ’em. I’ve got no way of communicating to the Budster that he’s a Chubster.
Since then he’s put some of the weight back on, so I’ve gotta do something.
Here’s my plan:
Training him to do new tricks. He already knows come, stop, sit and high-five, so we’re gonna have to try something new, like teaching him to roll and maybe teaching him to jump on my shoulder and “ride” around with me. Training is mentally stimulating, it should be fun for him, and it lays the groundwork for more challenging tricks.
A cat obstacle course! I can rig something up with his tunnel, some boxes and some “hazards” that he must traverse in order to get his paws on some catnip.
Snacks dispensed via puzzle feeder only. None of that free-feeding when he gavones the stuff down like he’s starving.
Rotating toys. Admittedly I haven’t been very good about doing that. Almost every guide mentions rotating cat toys so your little buddies don’t get tired of them.
A mirror so he can see how ripped chubby he’s gotten. He really needs to see himself loafing. It’s not pretty.
Okay that last one is a joke, mostly because I’m pretty sure he’ll just admire his “meowscles” in the mirror. Cats are masters of self deception. Bud is scared of rustling paper bags and absolutely terrified of vacuums, yet he still thinks he’s a hulking tiger. That’s impressive cognitive dissonance.
This is by far the fattest-looking photo of Buddy I could find. He’s in a super-meatloaf pose here, looking like a chonkmaster.
So we shall embark on this grand endeavor, and I’ll report back here to catalog successes and failures. Hopefully more of the former.
Buddy will always be like a baby to me, and I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he’s now a “senior” cat, but he is and it’s on me to make sure he remains active so he hopefully lives at least another 10 years in good health. There are many adventures yet to be had, many more schemes for world domination to hatch, and more turkey to eat.
Gacek the cat went viral earlier this year, commanding international headlines as thousands of tourists rated him the top attraction in his home city in Poland.
But as the feline’s renown grew so did his waistline, with tourists flocking to his little wooden home on the street to snap photos of the rotund tuxedo and — despite signs pleading with them not to feed him — gift him with snacks.
That wasn’t the only problem. Gacek couldn’t walk around most of the time without an entourage following him, and in March a woman tried to snatch “The King of Szczecin” in broad daylight. Her catnapping caper was quickly canned when Gacek slipped out of her arms and took refuge under a car while his admirers turned their phone cameras on his would-be abductor, who sheepishly retreated to a cab and took off.
The last straw was a recent veterinary exam which found the tubby tux was as many as 11 pounds overweight.
Something had to change.
Szczecin’s municipal animal shelter took the little big guy in their care and put him on a diet while looking for an appropriate home for him. Now Gacek has been adopted, the shelter wrote in a series of social media posts, and he’s starting to slim down after six years of livin’ la vida treats with a steady stream of visitors to his court, seeking his favor with offerings of yums crunchy and soft.
That’s okay. He’ll be a different kind of king now, with dedicated servants to see to his needs 24/7.
And although his old wooden cat house was cozy, well-maintained and lined with blankets, it wasn’t enough to keep him warm on cold winter nights. Now he’ll snooze indoors with the option to use a human pillow should he desire additional body heat.
Buddy losing his normally meowscular and ripped physique is my fault.
Ruh roh! It’s diet time again.
The meowing protests have begun.
Buddy has noticed his dry food tastes a little bit different, and he’s not happy. And while he may not be good with numbers, he strongly suspects his snack allocations are a little light.
He’s right.
Good boy has become fat boy, and that’s my fault and my responsibility.
When you love your cat, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that giving in all the time is an expression of love.
Cats are pros at insistence, especially when it comes to food. When Buddy stands in front of the treat cabinet and meows mournfully, or when he gives me his sad-eyed stare as if he’s Julius Caesar — “Et tu, Big Bud?” — I’m weak and I fold. Snacks are dispensed.
Chonky cats suffer health problems, reduced mobility and ill-fitting suits. Image: PITB
Yet there’s no denying Bud is plump.
He’s got a belly, and it’s not just his pronounced primordial pouch. His cheeks are starting to fill out. When he loafs, he looks like a gray blob.
He’s also incapable of doing his old door-opening trick, which requires him to jump and momentarily hang from the handle while his feet find purchase on the frame. Shoving off on his hind legs, he would push the handle down while leaning into the door, easing it open.
He’s just too chunky, unable to balance his weight properly to pull it off nowadays.
Most importantly, a chubby Buddy is not a healthy Buddy. That’s my fault.
So it’s back to the diet, and hopefully the little guy can be motivated to move more during play time. If not, well, we’ll have to resort to drastic measures to get him moving. An angry vacuum ought to do it.
Pain In The Bud 