In a tragedy for the baseball world, the hated Dodgers defeated the beloved Yankees in the World Series. Buddy the Cat is NOT happy about the outcome.
Freddie Freeman, Dodgers first baseman, infuriating hit-celebrator, and Yankee killer, has adopted a kitten.
The evil Freeman has named his new kitten Champ, in a not very subtle nod to his team winning the World Series with a game five victory over the Bronx Bombers on Oct. 30.
“Freddie Freeman thinks he can buy his way into my good graces by adopting a cat, and a gray tabby, no less,” Buddy the Cat, president-elect of the Americats, told reporters. “Well, I have news for you, Tom Brokaw — you’re still on my poop list!”
Freeman with Champ. Credit: Freddie Freeman/Instagram
Buddy cited the considerable distress Freeman’s five home runs and 12 RBI caused Buddy’s human, including the “despicable” game one walk-off grand slam that shocked the Yankees. He also blasted Freeman for “doing a stupid little dance” every time the Dodger reached base.
But most of all, Buddy said, he blamed Freeman for cutting short the celebratory treats he enjoyed at every previous stage of the playoffs, when the Yankees were on a roll en route to the World Series.
“In the American League Division series against the Kansas City Royals, snacks rained down from the heavens as the Yankees took the series 3-1,” he said. “In the American League Championship Series, I feasted like a viking in Valhalla as the Yankees crushed the Cleveland Indians.”
But tragically, the silver tabby said, there was only one game in the World Series that merited celebration at Casa de Buddy.
“One measly game!” Buddy raged. “So no, you’re not on my good side, Freeman!”
Freeman should be kicked out of the league just for doing this dance on the bases, Buddy said.
Asked about Freeman’s teammate, Shohei Ohtani, and his dog, Decoy, Buddy claimed the canine “lives by my forbearance alone, and it would be a shame if he found his home raided by Feline Bureau of Investigation (FBI) agents.”
Crumbs was rescued from a bad situation where people fed him without regard for his health. Now he’s got a lot of work ahead of him as his new caretakers help him lose weight so he can walk on his own again.
Crumbs, the morbidly obese tabby who was rescued from the basement of a Russian hospital last week, is already putting in the work to melt pounds.
That means he’s enduring two things most cats hate — exercise and water. You’ll recall from our earlier post that Crumbs weighs 38 pounds and cannot walk under his own power, so his new caretakers at Matroskin animal rescue in Perm, Russia, have him on a special waterproof treadmill where he gets the benefit of buoyancy while he gets his steps in.
The big guy is not a happy camper in the video, but he’s doing his best.
I’ve heard horror stories about the hospitals in Russia and Ukraine, so if it sounds strange that the staff at a hospital would feed cookies, soup and other inappropriate food to a cat, well, let’s just say it’s not the kind of environment most of us picture when we think “hospital.” (Which is another reason to be grateful for living in the west, where we have it much better than most of us generally realize.)
Non-native English speaking staff at the Hindustan Times may have confused Whiskas the cat food brand with whiskey, the alcoholic beverage, or there may have been a translation error.
Interestingly, a Hindustan Times story about Crumbs claims the hospital employees served whiskey to the obese cat in addition to the junk food, a claim repeated in the headline and article.
That would add another wrinkle to an already ridiculous story, but thankfully it’s not true. Your intrepid friends here at PITB checked the original text and with the help of translation software, determined it used the Russian word for “Whiskas,” as in the cat food, not whiskey. (It probably goes without saying, but never give alcohol to your cat. As little as a teaspoon of whiskey could be fatal.)
So if there’s some small comfort here, it’s that the people who fed Crumbs for so long weren’t completely ignorant to his needs, and it appears he got at least some species-appropriate food.
Crumbs shortly after he was rescued. Credit: Matroskin animal shelter
Quinn the cat has “the uncanny ability to make people feel unwelcome in her presence!”
Quinn the cat lives separate from feline genpop, she doesn’t suffer fools and she’s got a well-documented habit of smacking people, cats and dogs.
The infamously disagreeable feline is up for adoption and the shelter where she lives has been up front about her unique personality, saying she might do well with a misanthrope who would appreciate Quinn’s dislike of any visitors and intolerance for anyone who doesn’t directly serve her.
“Tired of visitors coming to your house? Adopt Quinn! She has an uncanny ability to make people feel unwelcome in her presence!” shelter staff wrote in Quinn’s adoption post.
Yet they’re confident there’s a home for Quinn, insisting that “surely there’s someone out there who would appreciate her icy stare and her sudden smacks!”
Of course Quinn could blossom into a happy, sweet cat once she’s living in her forever home and she realizes she’s not going back to the shelter or the streets. Most cats do poorly in shelters where fear and stress overwrite their usual personalities. Even the most outgoing, sweet cat can appear depressed and antisocial when locked in a cage most of the time, without people to love them, play with them and make them feel safe.
Quinn’s direct adoption page (scroll down to adoptable cats) says she’s three years old and wasn’t claimed by her owner, so who knows what kind of traumas she may have endured in her short life?
Quinn currently lives in the shelter’s office where she “rules with an iron paw.” Anyone interested in adopting her should ask for her by name, the shelter said. Contact the shelter at the link above or by calling 301-733-2060.
Apparently a lot of people use the “pspsps” thing to get their cats’ attention, and Mental Floss has a new story proposing some theories about why people use it and why cats respond.
The first and most obvious is that felines hear higher frequencies than humans, and they’re especially tuned into those frequencies because their usual prey — including rodents and birds — not only make noises in the higher ranges, they make noise us humans can’t hear, but felid ears are primed to pick up.
Mental Floss’s Ellen Gutoskey also points out that it could be “a truncation of ‘Here, pussy, pussy, pussy’—popularized in part by ‘Pussy, Pussy, Pussy,’ a 1930s song by the Light Crust Doughboys. In fact, the tempo is fast enough that it almost sounds like they’re singing ‘Pspsps.”
I think she could be onto something there unless the “pspsps” sound is universal, but truthfully I have no clue whether people in other countries, or outside the English-speaking world, use it to call their cats. I don’t and never really needed to. Bud comes when called a good 85 percent of the time, and if he doesn’t I usually assume it’s for good reason, like he’s having a nice nap or he has no current use for his servant.
Miles the cat
The Guardian’s Hannah James Parkinson writes about adopting Miles, the shelter’s most skittish cat who had been passed over time and again until she came along.
Earning Miles’ trust wasn’t easy, but Parkinson did it with time, patience and love, and eventually Miles became her little buddy and even came out of his shell enough to make friends with another neighborhood cat.
Credit: Hannah Jane Parkinson
Unfortunately Miles got hurt, infected and died while he was outside overnight. Parkinson doesn’t say if the little guy got hit by a car, but the description of his initial injury is consistent with it.
The indoor vs outdoor thing is a thorny issue. I saw it as a more black-and-white problem until hearing from several readers who live in places like farmland or very quiet neighborhoods where the chance of a cat getting hit is small.
I don’t begrudge anyone making what they think is the best choice for their cat(s), except maybe for Australians and New Zealanders. Seriously, guys, bring those cats in before sadistic “hunters” get them in their crosshairs or they nibble on the poisoned meat that both governments like to use to “manage” the cat population. Neither country seems overly concerned with pet cats getting caught up in their zealous extirpation campaigns, and when birders are this riled up it’s best not to take chances anyway. If your cat isn’t spending time outdoors, it can’t be blamed for killing local wildlife.
I love dogs, but…
The Daily Mail has a horrific story about a pair of unleashed rottweilers that followed a woman into her home as she was carrying groceries and mauled her two pet cats to death in front of her traumatized children.
The attack happened around noon on Aug. 30 in a small town in the UK’s Western Midlands. The dogs came bounding in and snatched one of the cats off the kitchen counter, then mauled the other. The ginger tabby died immediately, either from shock or his severe injuries, while the other lived long enough to make it to the vet, who said the little tuxedo couldn’t be saved.
The woman told the newspaper her kids are having nightmares about the attack, while the police response was underwhelming to say the least, especially because the cats weren’t the only animals attacked by the roaming rottweilers.
“We were called to Raglan Way, Chelmsley Wood (on August 30) to reports of two dogs attacking another dog. The injured dog was taken to the vets to be treated,” a police spokesman told the paper. “The owners of the two dogs were spoken to and were taken back home to be secured by the owners. We have asked neighbourhood officers to speak to the dog’s owners regarding securing the animal, and will consider any further steps that need to be taken to ensure public safety.”
The owners of the dogs “were spoken to.” Wow. Let no one say the West Midlands Police don’t have a sense of scale. Perhaps if it happens again they’ll send a stern letter.
I hope the resulting media stories, and the beginning of the attack caught on a home security camera, lead to enough pressure that the police take the incident seriously and the owners of the dogs have to face consequences. There’s nothing prohibitive about talking to them. The only way irresponsible people are going to leash their dogs, especially dogs capable of this kind of thing, is if the consequences for not doing so are sufficiently prohibitive to make them think twice.
Finally, here’s a video of a cute baby kookaburra to balance out all that horribleness:
Meet Barney the cat, who waited NINE years for his forever home. PLUS: Buddy’s no longer chubby.
Barney goes home
Meet Barney, who finally has a forever home after nine years living in a shelter:
I’ve got a bias toward silver tabbies obviously, but look at this little guy! He’s handsome, he’s got bright green eyes and I’ve no doubt he’s got a ton of love to give to his new people.
The question is: Why did it take nine years for him to get adopted? It’s deeply unfair and depressing, although the people at Iowa’s Emmett County Animal Shelter deserve credit for never giving up on him.
Barney was born at the shelter and was passed over every time potential adopters came in to look at cats, shelter staff told the Des Moines Register. When someone posted a photo of Barney to Reddit along with a short note about his predicament, Amanda Scherer drove six hours to adopt him, telling the Register “I really wanted to give him a home.”
Social media has become an invaluable tool for shelters looking to place cats and dogs in homes, and there are two common denominators to the success stories: a great photo that capture’s the pet’s personality and a backstory. The more the story tugs at the heartstrings, the better.
No judgments here, but I wish people who are inclined to buy cats and dogs would think of all the Barneys out there who need homes. Some 1.5 million of them are killed every year because the demand for homes is greater than the demand for shelter pets. That’s a significant improvement over decades past thanks to relentless efforts to get animals spayed and neutered, but we can do better.
Bud’s looking ripped
Buddy’s been on a diet since early this summer, necessitated by my poor job of learning to say no when he screeches for snacks, which is approximately all the time.
It hasn’t been easy for either of us: He wants his treats and I desperately want him to stop meowing for them, but after three months I’ve really noticed a difference. He’s much trimmer these days and he’s mostly learned to be satisfied with smaller treat portions at longer intervals, so it’s been worth it.
Now all I have to do is avoid lapsing into being his human snack dispenser again and avoid using treats as a lazy way to get him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Like, for example, giving me a few minutes of meow-free peace when I’m trying to focus on writing. (The only time he stops trilling, chirping and meowing is when he’s eating or napping.)
I’ll get a good full shot of my feline overlord so you can see how ripped he’s looking, but in the meantime here’s a photo I took this week on the balcony, where Bud likes to lounge in the summer. There are no color filters or any other edits except a simple crop and a shadow/highlight adjustment, and you can see his “terracotta nose” and just how bright and green his eyes are in natural outdoor light:
Although there are no filters, I should note here that I took this photo with my new Samsung, and Galaxy phones are known for their saturated colors. My previous phone was a Google Pixel which often resulted in the opposite effect, with photos looking sapped of color in some lighting conditions. Still, the Galaxy’s photos are much closer to what I see with my own eyes when little man is playing outside.
P.S. Thank you to the reader who dubbed Bud “terracotta nose” a while back. I’m sorry, I can’t remember who bestowed him with that nickname, but I love it.
Pain In The Bud 