Tag: smart cat

Buddy Rages At Klingons For Interrupting Nap Time

Can Captain Buddy of the USS Fowl Play outsmart the Klingons once again to save his crew and salvage his nap?

USS FOWL PLAY, NCC-2014A — Captain Buddy emerged from the turbolift, batting at the wrinkles in his uniform with his paws in a fruitless attempt to look more presentable.

“Not that it matters with these nap-interrupting brutes,” he sighed. “On screen!”

The helm officer tapped a sequence into his console and an image of a scowling Klingon materialized on the ship’s view screen, replacing the view of space and the sleek Klingon Warbird that had decloaked in front of the USS Fowl Play.

“Gruthnok vupar! This is the warship Dra’akkthar of the mighty Klingon empire!” the face on the view screen snarled. “Power down your pitiful excuse for a ship and prepare to be boarded!”

Captain Buddy smiled.

“Good to see you too, Captain Hrakhuul,” he said. “How are the wife and the kids?”

Hrakhuul snorted derisively.

“Only a fool jests during the hour of his doom!” the Klingon spat. “Have you no honor?”

Captain Buddy scratched his chin fur, pretending to consider the question.

“None,” he said, “but I do have a bone to pick with you. You woke me up during nap time. Again. Not cool, Hrakhuul. Not cool.”

Captain Buddy, commanding officer of the Federation starship USS Fowl Play, Galaxy class registration NCC-2014A

Hrakhuul growled.

“Your species is insolent, lazy and takes ten naps a day!”

“Why, thank you, Captain Hrakhuul! And may I say, you’re looking particularly savage today.”

“This is your last warning, Federation cat! Power down your shields and weapons or be destroyed!”

Captain Buddy yawned.

“I think I’ll have my crew serve me turkey sandwiches instead. Yeah. Turkey over obliteration, no brainer.”

This enraged the Klingon. “Prepare to taste your own blood at the tip of my ancestral bat’leth, feline fool!”

Buddy collapsed into his captain’s chair and kicked his feet up.

“Can we just skip this and get to the part where I outsmart you and go back to my nap?”

Hrakhuul cackled maniacally.

“So your fate is sealed, then. You shall fall before the might of the Klingon Emp…”

Captain Buddy cut him off.

“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you. This is a..an, uh…” He turned to Lieutenant Pawson, the tactical officer, whispering: “What kind of ship is this again?”

“A Galaxy class, sir. Same as the flagship.”

“A Galactic class starship!” Buddy said confidently, projecting the calm of a seasoned captain. “And we have, like, uh…”

“Sixteen phaser banks and two photon torpedo launchers, sir,” Pawson whispered helpfully.

“Lasers! Like 27 of them! And torp…er, missiles and stuff! Very powerful missiles. They make yuge explosions!”

Behind him, operations Lt. Commander Cleo hid her face in her paws.

Schemeowtics for the USS Fowl Play, Captain Buddy’s awesome starship.

“Enough of your meaningless babble,” Captain Hrakhuul barked. “Prepare to die!”

Captain Buddy’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Oh no! We have a warp core breach! Abandon all decks and get to your escape pods!”

Captain Hrakhuul snarled, fear in his eyes.

“What?!?” If you think I will fall for this again, you tribble with a tail…”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, Hrakkie,” he said. “You’re in the blast radius.”

Captain Buddy made a cut-off motion to the helmsman and the screen returned to its default view of a placid star field.

The bridge crew erupted into applause.

“The Klingon ship is backing up, full reverse thrusters, sir!”

Buddy cleared his throat.

“Fire a few of those proton missile things to create an explosion, then hit the gas, warp nine!”

The Captain yawned into the back of his paw as he walked toward the turbolift.

“I am returning to my nap,” he told his crew before the lift doors closed, “and anyone who interrupts me will be thrown out of an airlock!”

Local Cat Enjoys 7 Meals A Day From 7 Houses

The resourceful cat has mastered the art of meowing adorably and appearing hungry, tugging at the heartstrings of seven neighbors who all think he doesn’t get enough to eat.

NEW PALTZ, NY — It’s not easy playing the part of a hungry stray to seven different families in a one block radius, but local cat Tangerine says he makes it work by sticking to a strict schedule.

“I’m always at the green house at 7:45 am sharp, ’cause that’s when the kids leave for the school bus. When they see me they call out to their mom, who’s usually got tuna or eggs for me,” the enterprising feline said.

From there it’s on to the three-story Dutch revivalist house on the corner, where a retired gentleman calls Tangerine “Rusty” and offers him a generous bowl of kibble.

“The key is to master the plaintive meow and to look just a bit unsure of yourself,” Tangerine explained, “like you haven’t had a meal in ages and aren’t sure where your next meal is coming from.”

But Tangerine isn’t nearly done after only two houses. The crafty cat has his stops all planned out and knows the routines of every one of his neighbors, a feat of efficiency and logistical planning that would make FedEx envious.

If the weather’s nice, the orange tabby will settle down for a rest in the neighbor’s yard, which has flowers that are particularly enjoyable to defecate on. If it’s chilly or raining, Tangerine heads back home for his morning snooze.

Immediately after First Nap is the highlight of the morning: a visit to the Bacon House where the inhabitant, a 47-year-old software engineer, has bestowed the name Simba on Tangerine and always offers deliciously crispy bacon, the feline said.

A visit to Bacon House
Visiting Bacon House is a highlight of the day, never to be missed. Image: PITB

Next it’s Second Nap followed by Fourth Meal at the wrap-around porch two houses down, which provides ample shade for subsequent snoozing. The people there call Tangerine “Creamy Delicious” and offer him a wide variety of palate-pleasing treats.

Tangerine prepares for the visit by rolling in the dirt for a minute or two, making himself look scruffy and unkempt.

“You poor thing!” the woman who lives there often says as Tangerine nuzzles against her hand and meows cutely. “You probably haven’t eaten since yesterday!”

The rest of the afternoon through early evening takes the orange tabby between three additional homes where he enjoys diced chicken, crumbled sausage and occasional steak.

By the time he’s finished his rounds, Tangerine is drained and returns home to rest.

“It’s not easy doing that much eating and sleeping,” Tangerine said with a wide yawn. “If it were easy, every cat would be out there like I am with the side hustle.”

As of press time Tangerine said it was too early for a formal announcement, but said he’s been working on “considerations of sleep and logistics” that would allow him to expand to an ambitious route of nine houses and nine meals daily.

‘Where’s Mine, Dude?’: How My Cat Makes Me Feel Guilty

“I will make you feel guilty, human. Then you will feed me.”

When I adopted Buddy I never thought I’d have such a talkative and friendly cat. Or one who seems to be an expert on human psychology, for that matter.

The little guy has made a habit of following me to the kitchen, even rousing himself from naps the instant he hears the fridge door opening, the rustling of a bag or the clunk of a closing cabinet.

Employing a different strategy than the meow-heavy, “FEED ME NOW!” style he uses at meal time, he sits in the doorway of the kitchen and watches me silently. If I fail to retrieve a snack for him, he doesn’t move.

Last night I’d forgotten to get him something and when I set my cereal bowl down on the coffee table and sank back into the couch, I looked over and saw Bud still sitting in the kitchen doorway, managing to simultaneously look sad and silently incriminating with his big green eyes.

“Where’s mine, dude? Dude, where’s mine?” he seems to say, pouring it on thick. “I thought we did everything together, yet here you are enjoying a snack while your best little Buddy is standing just a few feet away, feeling betrayed as you eat your Frosted Flakes. I guess we weren’t best buddies after all.”

Because I can’t stand that incriminating look and I know the situation will escalate if I don’t act, I dutifully rise from the couch and assume my responsibility as Bud’s faithful human servant, fetching some of his favorite dental treats.

His tail curls into a happy question mark and he trills his happiness.

“Guilty? Betrayed? Ah, all forgotten! Difficulties are dissolved into mere misunderstandings where snacks are concerned, my human friend!”

Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing the little guy. Or maybe he really is a master of human psychology who can manipulate human emotions with the twist of his paw.

The Extraordinary Poetry of Buddy the Cat

Did you know Buddy is an accomplished poet and cat of letters?

Haiku:

The food of the gods
Turkey, it’s so delicious
More turkey, servant!

Time for seventh nap
Beauty rest is required
Sleep on you, human!

Mystical flower
Transforms boring to blissful
Give me catnip now!

Buddymandias:

I met a traveler from an antique cat cafe
Who said: “Two vast and polished turds
Stand in the litter…near them, in the disarray
Half sunk a shattered clump lies, resembling Los Gatos
With wrinkled lip and cold sneer of jealousy
Tell that its sculptor well read those passions and pathos
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless turds of heresy
The paw that mocked them, and the heart that fed
And taped to the box, these words appear:
‘Our name is Los Gatos, Gang of Gangs we led
Look upon my catnip empire, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains round the decay
Of that colossal poop, boundless and bare
The lone and level litter stretches far away.”

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary I woke with something in my head
I couldn’t escape the memory of the poultry in my head
Like a game show contestant with a parting gift, I could not believe my eyes
When I heard through the voice of a trusted Big Buddy
Who used to humor me and feed me fries, yeah humor me and feed me fries
Quothe the raven: “Nevermore!”
“Shut up, raven!” I said. “Or I’ll make you into a late night snack
You may not be turkey, but every kind of bird I shall attack
So shut those loose lips, or I’ll use your bones as toothpicks
And then enjoy Temptations as a digestif.”

Buddy is available for readings at all distinguished parlors of poetry and bookstores. His chapbook, “Turkey In My Bowl,” is available in June from Handsome Boy Press.

‘Sleep Scritches’: Buddy’s Latest Innovation

Buddy has devised a method to get me to scratch his head without even waking me.

I’m not exactly sure when I first consciously noticed it, but over the last six months I’ve woken up in odd circumstances in the middle of the night: My hand is raised and Buddy is there, nuzzling against it and purring.

It started with the Budster nudging my hand with his muzzle, then somehow he got me to raise my hand without waking me.

Not content to stop there, Bud has somehow engineered what I call “Sleep Scritches,” in which he triggers me to pet him while I’m unconscious.

It’s really weird to wake up on your back with your hand raised and your cat sounding like a motorboat as he guides his forehead beneath your fingertips. It’s also weird to wake up with said cat sitting on your chest and licking your nose or your beard.

Buddy the Clever
“You shall pet me even whilst you are asleep, human servant!”

Let no one say Bud isn’t a clever cat when he wants to be, which is basically whenever there’s food, attention or affection involved.

He saw a problem, which is that it’s really difficult to wake me up once I’m properly asleep. And he solved that problem not by waking me up, but by getting what he wants without having to wake me. He does the same thing when dealing with my tendency to toss and turn in my sleep: He finds a nook wherever one is available and burrows in when it’s cold, or simply drapes himself on top of me when it’s warm.

Score another one for feline ingenuity.

At this point I wouldn’t be surprised to discover he’s got me sleepwalking to the treat cabinet every night.

Of course I could set up a camera to record me while I sleep a la Paranormal Activity, but I’m afraid I might see him grooming his butt before licking my face while I remain unconscious. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.