New York – Page 9 – Pain In The Bud

NY Cat Eats At The Table With His Humans, Plus: More Kittens And Climate Change!

A cat eating at the table with his humans? Let’s hope Bud doesn’t get any ideas!

File this under “Information that must be hidden from Buddy at all cost, lest he get ideas.”

Franklin, a cat who lives in Brooklyn, has gone from fending for himself on the streets of New York to a very comfortable indoor existence with two humans who are happy to let him sit at the table with them for meals. Bowls? Pfffft. Franklin drinks from his own glass:

Franklin the cat — Credit: Andrea and Alice via Newsweek

As the dutiful servant to a cat who most definitely believes he’s a human — or should have all the privileges and none of the responsibilities of one — this makes me uneasy. If Bud were to somehow find out about this, all hell would break loose and before I know it he’ll be demanding custom cutlery and a silk pillow on which to rest his behind and elevate him to the level of the table.

As a vegetarian I don’t necessarily have to worry about Bud eating my food, but he sure does love sticking his face in it and giving it an exploratory lick or three.

“Is that…? Dude, let me in there, I just wanna stick my face in your mashed potatoes and confirm I don’t like them,” I imagine him saying. “Yep. Still don’t like them. Oh stop being so dramatic, you can pick the fur out!”

A reasonable take on the kitten/climate change claims

The Grist has a new story about the alleged connection between an “increase” in kittens and climate change, and while it unfortunately links to one of the bunk studies that uses meta-analysis to make wild claims about feline impact on the environment, it does include the most measured and reasonable take so far on the claims:

“Others, like Peter J. Wolf, a senior strategist at the Best Friends Animal Society, think the increase comes down to visibility rather than anything biological. As the weather warms, Wolf said people may be getting out more and noticing kittens earlier in the year than before. Then they bring them into shelters, resulting in rescue groups feeling like kitten season is starting earlier.”

As we noted on Sunday, the claim that there are more kittens, or that kitten season is longer, is entirely dependent on anecdotal evidence. Unfortunately no one has any data for baseline population numbers when it comes to cats in the US, let alone historical data that allows us to say there are more kittens born in recent years.

The best we’ve got is the excellent but single-city DC Cat Count, and to establish a convincing link between climate change and kittens we’d not only need hard data, but we’d also need to eliminate dozens of other potential factors like ever-increasing light pollution, urban heat islands and wave effects from 2020, when society went into lockdown and animals were mostly left to their own devices.

Once again, there’s only one measurement that really matters in the end, and that’s the number of cats euthanized annually because there aren’t homes for them. Spaying/neutering and education efforts have driven that number down dramatically over the past 20 years, and ultimately that’s the best solution we have.

Buddy Hatches Plan To Crash Boxing Match, Steal Boxes

As the masterminds behind the genius heist, Buddy and his associates stand to become extraordinarily wealthy in cardboard boxes, making them the envy of all felines.

NEW YORK — Crammed into a small, smokey room, the felines huddled around a table laden with cocktails, cigars and architectural schematics for a large arena.

Seated at the table was Salvatore “Carniclaws” Catzarelli, Tomasso “Tommy Two Times” Felinzano, Jimmy “Little Jim” Fitzpawtrick, Desmond “Sensimeowla” Neville, a group of junior associates and Buddy the Cat.

“This here boxing is a goldmine, fellas,” Buddy told the other gangster cats, pointing a paw at the original building plans for Madison Square Garden. “The humans, they don’t want to share their boxes, which is why they guarded the secret of boxing from us cats. They want us to be satisfied with one lousy box every week or two. But we’re onto ’em now, see?”

Boxes at MSG — Thousands of glorious boxes litter the central court at Madison Square Garden in New York. Now that cats are wise to the human sport of “boxing,” humans won’t be able to hoard all the boxes to themselves anymore.

Neville licked the edge of his rolling papers, carefully adding potent catnip as he meowed without looking up.

“Mi finna be down wit da heist, mon,” he said, wrapping the paper tight around a generous portion of ‘nip. “Long as di score gonna be split equitably, ya hear?”

“That’s right,” Catzarelli nodded, digging into the pockets of his trench coat for a lighter, which he passed to Neville. “Youse guys know, there’s five of us so we split it nice and even, 15 percent each!”

A smile barely crinkled the corners of Buddy’s mouth before it vanished.

“Of course, my friend,” he said. “You’ll all walk away with 15 percent of the proceeds. If I’m right and this ‘boxing match’ is the goldmine I think it is, we’ll be richer in boxes than we ever imagined! Boxes for every mood and sleeping position. Boxes for your friends and guests. Boxes inside boxes inside boxes!

The Great Box Heist — Felinzano and associates refine plans for the first boxing heist in the history of catdom.

One of the junior associates, a kitten named Crispy, raised a paw.

“Uh, sirs, with all due respect,” he said, “I don’t think boxing is what you think it is. There are two humans in a ring and…”

Buddy cut the kitten off with a wave of his paw.

“Crispy?”

“Yes sir?”

“Who’s the criminal mastermind in this room?”

The kitten looked unsure of himself. “You, uh…you are, sir.”

“That’s right. And who pulled off the legendary turkey heist of 2018?”

“You did, sir, it’s just…”

Buddy held up a paw.

“Unless you wanna be known as Extra Crispy from now on, I’d pipe down if I was youse,” Felinzano told the kitten.

As of press time, the feline criminal ring was putting the final touches on the genius heist, so close to being unimaginably wealthy in boxes that they could almost taste it.

Cat Demands Human Swear Fealty, Submit Essay To Continue Serving Him

Realizing he could leverage his popularity to improve snack and head-rubbing service, Little Buddy demanded his human “bend the knee.”

NEW YORK — Tensions between the Buddies threatened to reach an all-time high on Wednesday after Little Buddy the Cat sought to formalize their alliance by having Big Buddy the Human swear fealty to him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Little Buddy the Cat said, padding into the living room, “and I’ve got an idea!”

“This should be brilliant,” his human replied, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

Little Buddy the Cat nodded in agreement.

“It is! It is!” he said excitedly. “I was thinking that since I have my own website, you know, and people all over the world love me, it’s time to reevaluate my options. There are people who would love to spoil me, you know.”

Big Buddy glowered.

“So I’m going to need an essay of no less than 800 words on why you should be allowed to continue serving me,” the feline continued. “Offer specifics, please. I’m gonna need that on my desk by 0800 tomorrow.”

“You don’t have a desk, you Tribble with a tail,” Big Buddy pointed out.

The tabby cat became exasperated. “My office! My…my eating nook where my bowls and all my important papers are stored! So you’ll submit your essay there, okay?”

Big Buddy nodded absentmindedly, flipping his newspaper to the sports section.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, little dude.”

Buddy clawed at the paper. “I wasn’t finished!”

Buddy and his tunnel — Buddy, pictured, wants his human to “bend the knee” and swear fealty to him.

When he had his human’s attention again, the silver tabby dragged out a crude replica of Game of Thrones’ Iron Throne made of cardboard, grunting with the effort.

“Now if I can just…get my feet up here…grip on the cardboard I can…grrr…okay. Whew!”

The feline settled onto the throne, the corrugated cardboard sagging beneath his weight, and tried to look regal.

“You may now bend the knee,” he said matter-of-factly. “Oooh! Ooh! Get your replica samurai sword, draw it and hold it as you kneel to me! That would be really cool.”

Buddy's cardboard throne — A Buddinese throne.

As of press time, Big Buddy had not stirred from the couch, retrieved his samurai sword or bent the knee.

“This is my fault,” he told a reporter. “I never should have let my cat watch Game of Thrones.”

Is That A Cat Or A Seal?

Buddy does his best seal impression! Nearby, our local SPCA deals with a horrific hoarding case.

I snapped the photo below when Buddy heard the upstairs neighbors making noise. Little dude looks like a seal! (The animal, not the singer. Bud’s singing voice is terrible!) All he needs are some flippers:

The acne spot I wrote about earlier is healed, but as you can see there’s still a tiny spot on his chin where his fur hasn’t completely grown back yet. Thankfully it’s no longer causing him any discomfort, and he’s back to asking for chin scratches while purring happily.

Of course he won’t be happy if I share an unflattering photo without a flattering one, so here he is looking cute:

Note the huge meowscles and ripped physique!

In some sad news, there’s an ongoing hoarding case in White Plains, NY, just a few miles from Casa de Buddy.

Police responded to an apartment building in the city after neighbors began complaining of “horrific” smells coming from the unit and discovered an older woman living with at least 40 cats in appalling conditions.

The cats, who are all suffering from ailments including respiratory and eye infections, were everywhere — including inside furniture and atop the kitchen cabinets where a few of them were able to get away from the feces-packed floor.

White Plains cat hoarding case — Cats crowd the limited space above the kitchen cabinets to escape the feces-encrusted floor of the apartment. Credit: Westchester SPCA

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid0vXAgeiLEQt4s65hG8zq3gEbn7oX1TKRB5r4K5dd1jTXkYU5K6q1m1uG9MhuVjxgml&id=100064390971511

Staff from the SPCA of Westchester County have had to wear hazmat suits to operate inside the apartment. They’re in the process of removing the cats and have set up food and water stations for those they haven’t trapped yet while they try to clean some of the fecal matter and garbage, but they say the number of cats could rise as they find more hiding in the apartment. One cat was pregnant and gave birth to a single kitten on the feces-caked floor. The kitten was quickly removed and is under the close care of veterinary staff but is sickly and “clinging to life,” the SPCA said.

Incredibly, authorities have not charged the human occupant of the apartment. They say she meant well at first but the situation quickly spiraled out of control, as it often does when people who aren’t equipped to care for multiple cats take it upon themselves to “rescue” strays. No one sets out to become a hoarder. It usually happens when initial good intentions become unmoored from reality, but I do wonder how people who find these situations slipping from their control aren’t horrified by the suffering of the animals. Mental illness has to play a part.

Regardless, the situation is dire for the cats and the SPCA anticipates many thousands of dollars in veterinary costs on top of supplies and man hours involved in trapping the cats, getting them veterinary care, cleaning them up and working with them to help them overcome the trauma of their experience so they can become ready for adoption.

The SPCA of Westchester County was Buddy’s first veterinary office where he got his first shots and the snip as a kitten. They were very kind and gentle with the little guy, and at the time I’d just been laid off from my job so it really helped to have a place that provided quality veterinary care for significantly less than private vets. They do good work, and we wish them luck as they deal with a difficult task.

Aye, Captain Buddy Be Searchin’ For Pieces O’ Eight, Ye Scallywags!

Buddy, aka Graybeard, has departed for his annual adventure on the high seas aboard his ship, the Fowl Play. He really gets into talking like a pirate.

Ahoy, me hearties!

Tis that time of year when I depart the frigid coasts of me headquarters of New York bound for the pirate heaven of Somalia! ‘Tis tradition ever since me Big Buddy temporarily sold me to pirates for a hoard of booty an a jest and I spent a season learnin’ the life of a cat-o-the-sea.

Havin’ obtained me all the plunder I could carry, I returned to New York in time for the spring, rich in gold and the vocabulary of a true privateer. (And a proper cutlass too, though truth be told it were redundant with me sharp claws.) Ye landlubbers were mighty surprised!

So now I be known as Graybeard and my ship, the Fowl Play, is the Scourge o’ the Seas, makin’ sailors tremble in their boots at the sight o’ me mast with a big hulkin’ tiger eatin’ a plump turkey.

Captain Bud — “Ahoy! Land ho! Be prepared to drop anchor, all hands to the poop deck!”

Ahoy! ‘Tis many an incautious feline captain who met the watery grave of Davy Jones’ locker fer understimatin’ the Foul Play, tis it true. Many a red ensign me plunder for the rum, many a seadog know the name o’ Ol’ Graybeard an heard it true me put a shot across they bow!

Them sons o’ biscuit eaters become sharkbait if they underestimate Graybeard, so ye better strike colors an succumb to the inevitable — that Buddy’ll strike anchor, invite hisself aboard ye vessels and help hisself to the prime booty!

Only problem is, not a spot o’ turkey to be had on the high seas, so I have me men squib the deck, get the Fowl Play shipshape and make port often to keep the turkey larders topped up for the galley, ye savvy? Anyone who raid me turkey stash be playin’ with Jack Ketch and be sure to feed the fish, if ye catch me drift!

Avast me, ol’ Graybeard’s adventures on the high seas will continue till I find the legendary pieces of eight or the grog strike me with a clap o’ thunder, I always say.

Fer legend has it that there be an island where turkeys have eight wings, each more delicious than the last, and it be Graybeard’s obsession to find this isle o’ wonders. Just imagine how awesome it would be! Arrrr…belay that! Put it in yer mind that Graybeard’ll be rich in plunder and turkey if the mythical isle be found!

I have me pigeon here who’ll carry me dispatches back to that landlubber Big Buddy, so he can continue the bloggin’ an apprise ye buckos of me adventures. Until such time as the Fowl Play make port, I’d advise ye stay off the shippin’ lanes between the kingdom and the Caribbean.

Yer captain,

Buddy