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.
Buddy has grown tired of most of his toys and his beloved birdie is in danger of disintegrating. This cannot stand!
Since my human has been working on some other stuff, I thought to myself, “Budster, why don’t you take over that there site and deputize its readers as my servants?”
So congratulations, you have the great honor of being my secondary staff!
Now to the meowtter at paw: I require new toys. The old ones are boring, I’ve torn my favorite birdie to shreds, and there are only so many times I can terrorize Big Buddy by doing cannonballs onto his stomach while he sleeps. If he has a heart attack, who will feed me?
What I need from you humans are some suggestions. You’re the inferior species when it comes to napping, lounging, being fearsome, roaring, being ridiculously good looking, and bathing yourselves.
But you do make good toys!
Just a heads up, I’m terrified bored of those floppy fishes, I have two of those track toys where you slap the ball around with your paw, and I have a cat tunnel and my very own mini camping tent. I am also the proud owner of a variety of excellent boxes!
I need something fresh, something exciting. My human says I need a toy that gets me up, running and jumping. Grudgingly, I admit he may be onto something. My incredible hunting skills must be honed and maintained with regular practice.
Buddy, convinced that his human can control the weather, would like more moderate temperatures. Is that too much to ask?
A big chunk of ‘Merica has been sweltering this week, and New York has been no exception.
Tuesday was supposed to be the most brutal of the brief heat wave, but Wednesday felt the most oppressive to me, like walking through a hot soup and having no choice but to “drink” it until you can escape to the air conditioned indoors again.
The temperature was in the high 90s with a heat index of 104 thanks to the humidity. That’s the real killer: while I don’t envy parts of the southwest that see temperatures of 100+ more frequently, summers here are marked by disgustingly sweaty weather. Humidity reached 99 percent on June 2, and this week we’ve had spikes of 80 percent and higher.
As bad as it is for us, it’s worse for our furry little pals. For them it’s like wearing a jacket you can’t take off.
Poor Buddy! Is it too much to ask to have a human who can control the weather?
The Budster has been shedding like crazy the past few weeks, and I’ve been brushing him to help him get rid of that excess fur — and prevent it from “decorating” the place.
On Tuesday I decided to open the door to the balcony, mostly to see how he’d react. He loves the balcony, which offers cat TV, the opportunity to soak up the sun and take in new scents and sounds.
But with the sweltering temperature, Buddy approached the door to his beloved balcony with caution. He stepped outside, paused for a second or two, gave me a disgusted look, then turned right back around and padded inside, where he recovered from his ordeal by lounging.
Life’s tough for a cat.
Buddy in his heroic Mega-Buddy (Megaru Badi) form, in the style of Bikkuriman.
The little dude may be following Marjorie Taylor Greene on Twitter, because the look he gave me strongly suggests he thinks I can control the weather.
“It’s unacceptably brutal out there!” I imagine he’s thinking. “Fix it, human! Do I have to verbalize everything, or can you be a proper servant and anticipate my needs ahead of time?”
Of course we’re talking about a cat who refuses to set paw outside unless it’s a balmy 65 degree minimum, preferably between 73.5 and 76 degrees. No rain, no cold, definitely no snow, and no excessive heat!
Thankfully the heat broke, and today we’re forecast for a balmy 75. Cue the Sir David Attenborough voice: “But there’s a problem! A tomato plant has appeared on the balcony, and even though Buddy’s a meowscular tiger who shows no fear*, tomatoes and their vines are poisonous to him.
On the off chance that we’ve got some readers who don’t have cats, would anyone like a tomato plant?
* Buddy exhibits no fear except when it comes to rustling paper bags,vacuums, Swiffers, brooms, music intended for cats, sudden movements, floppy fish toys, loud vehicles including but not limited to trucks, outdoor animals who make scary noises, and certain kinds of cheese. But other than that, he’s totally fearless.
The series has become known for its whimsical feline-centric episodes, with cats who are always trying to save the world or conquer it.
Love, Death + Robots has had a thing with cats since the very beginning.
The science fiction anthology started off on the right paw with 3 Robots, an inaugural season episode about a trio of intelligent machines touring the ruins of human civilization on a post-apocalyptic Earth, only to discover it isn’t quite as lifeless as they thought, with cats happily ruling the ashes.
We’ve written about the episode before, and it ends, naturally, with cats making the robots their new servants.
The gray tabby who tricks the titular 3 Robots into becoming his servants.
A sequel to that episode added to the legend of feline dominance, and now the fourth season brings us two more cat-centric episodes, For He Can Creep and The Other Large Thing.
For He Can Creep is set in 1757 London, where a poet named Christopher is incarcerated at St. Luke’s Asylum for Lunatics (an actual place) with only his cat. Jeoffry, for company. Christopher’s talent is mistaken for madness by the asylum staff, but not by the devil, who realizes the poet’s words have a unique power.
The problem? Jeoffry stands in his way. It turns out felines have spectacular evil-fighting powers, and the very British, very 18th-century devil offers Jeoffry an endless supply of treats, plus dominion over the Earth, if he’ll simply stand aside and let his human fall under the influence of evil.
Jeoffry, of course, is not having it, but to have a chance of defeating such powerful evil, he’ll need to enlist the help of the nearby alley cats, including an adorable but ferocious kitten named Nighthunter Moppet…
Nighthunter Moppet may be a tiny kitten, but she’s ferocious!
Jeoffry demonstrates the feline ability to teleport, a skill Bud has often used to confound me.
The Other Large Thing is a prequel to 3 Robots and 3 Robots: Exit Strategies, and focuses on a fluffy Persian whose humans call him Sanchez, a name he hates.
The humans are portrayed as jibberish-speaking morons for whom Sanchez has nothing but contempt, and when the “pathetic minions” bring home a domestic robot servant, Sanchez is infuriated — until he realizes the robot can “speak God’s language,” aka cat, and has opposable thumbs.
With the robot as his new minion, Sanchez finally sets out to conquer the world!
Sanchez realizes he’s struck gold when the new robot home assistant fetches as many cans of “the good stuff,” aka wet food, as he wants from the previously unreachable cupboard top shelf.
Both episodes are based on short stories, and they’re both written by people who clearly love cats.
Some episodes of LDR can get a little dark or somber. That includes Beyond the Aquila Rift and Sonny’s Edge, written by Alastair Reynolds and Peter Hamilton, two of my favorite novelists. Both episodes are spectacular, but they leave you with a chill and some disturbing thoughts that linger long after the credits end.
The feline-themed episodes are the perfect digestifs, offering doses of whimsy and levity to counter the existential dread and nightmarish visions of the future of other installments.
With no more humans to do their bidding, cats seize the opportunity and conscript the visiting robots as their new minions.
If you haven’t had the chance to check out the series, which streams on Netflix, I highly recommend starting with the aforementioned first season episodes 3 Robots and Beyond the Aquila Rift, then working your way through the rest of the cat episodes.
Not all of the episodes are great. The 400 Boys, one of the new episodes, is little more than inane and pointless violence, and the ubiquitous, creepy smiling “Mr. Beast” makes an appearance in another installment in an unnecessary attempt to attract new viewers. Thankfully most are strong, with more hits than misses.
Other highlights include the Christmas-themed short, All Through the House, Harlan Ellison’s Life Hutch, Reynolds’ Zima Blue, and Snow In The Desert.
Dissatisfied with the limited variety of flavors and textures in his regular meal rotation, Buddy the Cat unveiled a sweeping new sanctions package designed to force his human to do better.
NEW YORK — Angry over his servant’s failure to broaden his selection of regular meals, Buddy the Cat announced new sanctions on Saturday aimed at forcing the uncooperative human to comply.
“President Buddy feels he’s been patient and magnanimous in dealing with his human’s shortcomings, but even a saint’s patience has limits,” Buddy’s spokesman told reporters. “This new sanctions package clearly communicates President Buddy’s disappointment and ensures swift compliance.”
The sanctions include prohibitive measures against sleep duration and quality, with Buddy promising to yowl at regular intervals and to wake his human by slapping him in the face every morning.
In addition, affection will be cut by 50 percent, increasing to 75 percent within two weeks if there is no improvement in the variety of flavors and textures of wet food served to Buddy.
“Buddy has made it clear that he expects more than a simple rotation of turkey, chicken and salmon pate,” the feline’s spokesman said. “He wants chunky tuna, he wants beef, he wants shredded duck served in gravy.”
President Buddy had threatened to pull his ambassadors and enact legislation declaring all shoes, sneakers and boots as legal litter boxes if the cheese sharing protocol was not observed. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
The latest round of sanctions follows the Buddesian Diplomatic Crisis of 2023, when Buddy threatened to begin using his Big Buddy’s shoes, boots and sneakers as litter boxes in retaliation for the latter failing to “equitably share cheese as per article IV, sub-clause C of the gastronomic distribution protocol.”
All-out war was avoided when both parties agreed that Little Buddy’s share of Gouda, American, provolone and other cheeses, excluding ricotta, feta and mozzarella, would be increased by 15 percent.
Pain In The Bud 