A Queens woman is urging voters to support her cat as a write-in candidate for city council District 30 in an attempt to spoil a term-limited councilman’s “cronies” from sailing into office without opposition.
It’s an interesting time for politics in New York, and not just because of a mayoral race in which voters have apparently rejected Republicans and mainstream Democrats.
Over the last several weeks, stickers urging voters to cast their ballots for a house cat for a city council seat have been appearing in a Queens district.
In a story about the write-in campaign, the New York Post devotes most of the ink to political disagreements between Leo the cat’s human and the district’s councilman, Robert Holden. (He’s a moderate Democrat, she doesn’t think he’s progressive enough, but the things they’re arguing over are above the paygrade and influence of a city councilman.)
But the more interesting issue, for us at least, is what happens if Leo rides a wave of populist support and actually wins as a write-in candidate.
When asked what would happen if the nine-year-old feline earns an improbable victory at the polls, a humorless Board of Elections official asked a Post reporter if he was drunk, then told him “we can certainly say that only a human being — specifically a US citizen — can hold elected office in NYC.”
Oh well. It would be amusing if some clever attorney found a loophole to pave the way for a feline councilman, and there isn’t much chance Leo would be less productive than the rest of the council. He might even provide some fresh perspective on how to deal with the city’s eternal rat problem.
Twix and Gollum are in the process of converting my brother’s family into their dedicated servants.
My nieces have wanted a cat for a long time, but my brother and his wife had a few good reasons to hold off.
First and foremost, they were moving to a new country, and adding pets to a complex move that includes furniture, belongings and a long flight — plus adjusting to an entirely new country, new jobs and new schools — was a hassle they didn’t want.
In addition, I know they all deeply miss their dog, Cosmo, who passed away in the summer of 2023. Heck, I miss the little dude dearly. If he hadn’t burrowed his way into my heart, I wouldn’t have even thought of adopting a little buddy of my own.
But the Cat Distribution System cares little for the plans of mere mortals, and when my brother and his family arrived at their new home in coastal Italy, they soon discovered it came with a cat: Twix, a fixed calico who lives on the property.
It wasn’t long before the friendly Twix established that these new humans could be trusted, which is when she introduced an orange tabby who is either her brother or companion. No one’s quite sure.
Now my nieces have two cats to play with, and they’re making Bud look bad. As cats who have lived outdoors on the property, they’re much more accustomed to noise and change, and they adjust more quickly. Buddy, by contrast, is used to a quiet apartment with me, and while he is friendly to guests, he’s also a bit wary of kids.
Here are Twix and Gollum:
In the meantime, Buddy’s second term as President of the Americats is chugging along. After recognizing the need for a new denomination, President Buddy has introduced the new $11 cat dollar bill featuring his presidential likeness:
We’re not sure a powdered wig is a particularly good look for the little fellow, but I know better than to raise that concern.
Why would anyone need an $11 bill, you ask? Because cats don’t have pockets, so they don’t do change!
Cat dollars are legal feline tender and entitle the bearer to the equivalent value in cat food cans or snacks, when presented at any accredited feline bank.
Buddy, pleased with his new currency, has ordered his treasury to get started on a new $7 cat bill, which will also feature his likeness.
Buddy the Cat wants his human to provide him with alternatives to his long-desired Roomba. Nothing fancy, of course.
Sept. 1, 2025 (11 A.B., or After Buddy) To: Big Buddy From: Little Buddy
Dear Buddy the Larger,
Since you have failed to secure a Roomba as my personal steed, as per my repeated demands, I have commissioned several other ideas for my personal conveyance.
Please find the enclosed image of a less complex, human-powered method of mobility fitting my station and status as an awesome feline. I have also attached an image of an appropriate seat designated for my use: humble yet regal, comfortable yet authoritative, offering supplicants the chance to to approach my feline personage while also clearly delineating the difference in power between myself, on my raised dais, and the lowly humans who seek my favor.
Note the dog pelt as a carpet beneath my throne…er, I mean my chair. Any dog who seeks an audience will be reminded that I’m, like, a jaguar and stuff, and they’d better be sufficiently deferential and pay tribute with delicious gifts.
Your friend and master,
Buddy
This design eschews all the complex and expensive machinery of a Roomba for good, old-fashioned human labor. I will require six Royal Buddy Guards: four to carry me at normal times, and six to carry me after I’ve feasted. I told the concept artist not to go too crazy with the ornamentation. Nothing too ostentatious, as you can see.
This design, inspired by Kublai Khan’s court in Khanbaliq (Cambulac), his winter capital. Unfortunately I couldn’t find much about the throne in his summer capital, Xanadu, but I have commissioned a designer to cook up something appropriate and will forward that to you shortly as well.
As you can see, nothing particularly fancy here, just good, sturdy, common sense necessities. I’m sure you’ll get right on it.
Every cat lover’s camera roll is dominated by photos of our fluffy little overlords. It’s the natural order of things.
I’ve always said Bud’s silent treatment can be worse than his vocal protests when it comes to gauging the intensity of his disapproval.
Howling at me to fetch him a snack? That’s normal. Sitting down two feet away and fixing me with his wide-eyed, accusatory stare as I eat a snack without getting one for him? Now that’s serious.
Andreas Nilsson, the director of a new ad highlighting a recently-introduced Apple feature, clearly understands the hierarchy of feline displeasure:
In the spot, a man uses Apple Intelligence to remove his cat, Garrett, from a photo he just snapped of his wife relaxing and reading a book.
“Look, I deleted Garrett,” he says, holding up the photo and clearly expecting something along the lines of “Wow, that’s a pretty cool feature!”
Instead, she gives him a dry “I always knew you hated Garrett” and goes back to her book.
But Garrett himself doesn’t have to utter a single meow. His reproachful gaze is all the prompting the man needs to undo his mistake with the tap of his screen.
The commercial ends with a slow close-in on Garrett’s face, which has “You’re on thin ice, human!” written all over it.
I like this spot. The creative team took a risk in showing off a new feature in a way that made the characters react negatively, but cat people will love it, and viewers aren’t likely to forget what they saw.
Android users have had something very much like it for quite a while now. Sometimes it really does work the way it does in the commercials, with seamless results, but other images are a bit more difficult to clean up and require some manual tinkering. If Apple’s figured out a way to measurably improve this sort of thing, that’s a pretty big positive for the future of smartphone photography and editing.
In any case, cheers to Nilsson for knowing who holds real power in human-feline households. Now if you’ll excuse me, the king is demanding my attention, no doubt to have me scratch his chin, open a door for him, or serve him second breakfast…
The makers of Temptations want you to feed your cats more snacks, as if they don’t get enough!
In yet another indication that some people don’t seem to pay attention to their feline masters, the Wall Street Journal reports on Mars and its internal operation “Cattitude,” which as far as I can tell amounts to a few people within the company realizing they haven’t squeezed every last dollar of revenue from people who have cats.
That’s a problem, the company realized, because more people are adopting cats, younger generations are more likely to adopt felines, and anyone who hasn’t had their head in the sand knows the little ones rule the internet with their cuteness.
Through “Cattitude,” which apparently involves everything from executives walking around the office wearing cat ears, to handing out “I Love Cats” decals and consulting with “cat parents” on products, the company says it’s identified a “treat gap” between felines and canines, with dogs as the far more frequent beneficiary of yums:
“Feline insecurity can be self-fulfilling. If you think your cat doesn’t care, you might be less likely to shower them with perks. That may be why dogs get way more treats.
Mars launched a campaign in May that spotlights the “treat gap” by the numbers: Dogs are nearly 32% more likely to get daily treats than cats in dogs-only and cats-only households; in homes with both, 38% of parents said they don’t give the same number of treats.“
The story does not say how the company arrived at those numbers. Probably market research in the form of surveys. Not exactly scientific, as these things go.
This is one of those stories that makes me wonder if these people actually have cats.
From the moment I wake up until the second I settle into bed, Bud shrieks at me for snacks. He won’t even let me stumble into the bathroom before the first shrill reminders. He demands snacks before dinner, after dinner, after he’s had snacks, and sometimes while he’s eating them.
If he could speak English and hold a bull horn, I have no doubt he’d spend the majority of his day blasting the demands into my ears: “MOAR SNACKS, BIG BUDDY! MOAR! MOAR!”
Mars should know this. One of its most popular products, Temptations, turns cats into slobbering addicts. I had to wean the Budster off them, then stupidly bought them again months later and had to wean him off the Temps again because he has a one-track mind when they’re in his bloodstream. Two are not enough. Six are not enough. Ten are not enough.
One time, I left a big tub of the damn things unattended for a minute and he managed to pop the top off by knocking it off the coffee table. When I walked back into the living room, he was dragging his jaw along the floor like a bulldozer, inhaling as many as was felinely possible into his little mouth.
Frantically, I shooed him away and began picking them up, but the damage was done. He threw up a few minutes later. Then he shrieked for more!
He always looks innocent, doesn’t he?
Interestingly, the WSJ notes that if you type “Does my cat” into Google, the first two auto-complete suggestions are “Does my cat love me?” and “Does my cat know I love her?”
And that brings us to a point on which I agree with the people at Mars: cats still aren’t well understood.
Dogs happily slobber over their people. Cats show their love in subtle ways, like proximity, head bunting and momentary contact.
Just like the whole “cats love milk” thing is half myth, half misunderstanding, so is the idea that your cat doesn’t love you unless he’s leaping into your arms to hug you as saccharine orchestral music swells in the background.
While there are always outliers, most cats don’t like being hugged or picked up, and most have hard limits when it comes to the amount of physical affection they’ll tolerate. It’s not because they don’t care for us, but because they’re semi-domesticated carnivores who still retain the skittish tendencies of their wild brethren, and because they get easily overstimulated, among other reasons.
If Mars’ Cattitude is an ongoing thing, I hope the decision-makers in the company come to what I believe are two of the most important conclusions to keep in mind when it comes to cats. Giving them your love means giving them your time and attention, and treating them like the sentient, emotional creatures they are.
The best piece of advice I ever got was to always take your cat’s emotions into consideration.
It really is that simple.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have snacks to dispense.
Pain In The Bud 