turkey – Pain In The Bud

APOCALYPSE: Buddy’s Servant Runs Out Of Cat Food!

The cat food cupboard is bare, and Buddy the Cat is not amused.

NEW YORK — The unthinkable happened on late Thursday night when Buddy the Cat’s human servant opened the very last package of chicken pate only to realize the meat inside had gone bad, probably from a hole in the damaged container.

It was a catastrophe. For the first time in 10 years, poor Buddy was bereft of wet food!

Making matters worse, and signaling a deep betrayal, Big Buddy elected not to potentially lose his parking space to make a late night run to a 24-7 store to buy emergency cat food for his feline overlord.

He is required to do so under the terms of the Cat Servant Agreement of 2014, which stipulates that running out of food is “unacceptable” and supplies “must be replenished when the Strategic Yums Reserve is reduced to five (5) cans or three (3) packages of Perfect Portions remaining in the Cupboard of Yums.”

Poor Buddy was left with nothing except Blue Buffalo dry food, Friskies dry treats, Rachael Ray Nutrish soft treats, chicken puree from a squeeze tube, diced gouda cheese, and a bowl of fresh water.

“Oh why Big Buddy have ye forsaken me?” Buddy asked, collapsing from the lack of meaty caloric energy his meowscular frame relies on to fuel his finely-tuned physique. “Et tu, Big Buddy? Et tu?”

Sources say Little Buddy vowed to exact bitter revenge on his irresponsible, traitorous, callous, selfish, non-empathetic, backstabbing, inconsiderate, terrible human…if he makes it through the night.

Angry Buddy — A visibly angry Buddy, pictured above, was in danger of starving on Thursday night due to lack of wet food.

How Do You Keep Your Cat Interested In Play Time?

The challenges of getting a lazy cat interested in play time and toys again.

Buddy is friendly, outgoing and incredibly vocal, but he’s always been a bit lazy.

His preferred method of getting down from the couch isn’t jumping — although he does jump sometimes — it’s slowly oozing off the cushion like he’s liquid, taking the path of least resistance and letting gravity do all the work until he drops down and lands with a “Mmmrrrrrppp!”

When we wake up, the first thing he does is demand a snack, then he lays down for First Nap, apparently because the act of chewing and swallowing is so demanding.

Brave Buddy — “Now’s an excellent time for a nap.”

While he used to chase the laser with a fury and jump several times his own height to paw at it — even after figuring out it’s light fired out of a pen held by me — nowadays he can’t be bothered. At best he halfheartedly chases it for a bit and then loses interest even though I make an effort to move the laser like prey, as I do with his wand toys.

Worst of all, catnip makes him even lazier because he doesn’t just sniff the damn stuff, he eats it. I try to get him interested in his favorite wand toy when he’s buzzing on a heady combination of ‘nip and silver vine, but he won’t chase it. He just rolls onto his back and paws at it lazily, maybe getting in a few “rabbit kicks” if he’s feeling feisty.

All of this would be funny if he wasn’t about to turn 10 years old and if he didn’t tip the scale at about a pound and a half to two pounds above his normal body weight when the vet weighed him a few months ago.

“Hey fat boy!” I tell him, getting the familiar “Brrrrrr!” in response. (He’s a big time triller. Feline linguists estimate at least 60 percent of the Buddinese dialect consists of trills of various pitch, length and intensity.)

Fat Boy lost most of the excess weight during a particularly brutal stretch when he screeched at me for snacks constantly and I had to deny him most of the time. At least with kids you can explain things to ’em. I’ve got no way of communicating to the Budster that he’s a Chubster.

Since then he’s put some of the weight back on, so I’ve gotta do something.

Here’s my plan:

Training him to do new tricks. He already knows come, stop, sit and high-five, so we’re gonna have to try something new, like teaching him to roll and maybe teaching him to jump on my shoulder and “ride” around with me. Training is mentally stimulating, it should be fun for him, and it lays the groundwork for more challenging tricks.
A cat obstacle course! I can rig something up with his tunnel, some boxes and some “hazards” that he must traverse in order to get his paws on some catnip.
Snacks dispensed via puzzle feeder only. None of that free-feeding when he gavones the stuff down like he’s starving.
Rotating toys. Admittedly I haven’t been very good about doing that. Almost every guide mentions rotating cat toys so your little buddies don’t get tired of them.
A mirror so he can see how ~~ripped~~ chubby he’s gotten. He really needs to see himself loafing. It’s not pretty.

Okay that last one is a joke, mostly because I’m pretty sure he’ll just admire his “meowscles” in the mirror. Cats are masters of self deception. Bud is scared of rustling paper bags and absolutely terrified of vacuums, yet he still thinks he’s a hulking tiger. That’s impressive cognitive dissonance.

Meatloafing Buddy — This is by far the fattest-looking photo of Buddy I could find. He’s in a super-meatloaf pose here, looking like a chonkmaster.

So we shall embark on this grand endeavor, and I’ll report back here to catalog successes and failures. Hopefully more of the former.

Buddy will always be like a baby to me, and I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he’s now a “senior” cat, but he is and it’s on me to make sure he remains active so he hopefully lives at least another 10 years in good health. There are many adventures yet to be had, many more schemes for world domination to hatch, and more turkey to eat.

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.

It’s Kitten Bowl Sunday!

It’s the big game! Watch adorable, adoptable kittens and puppies square off on a tiny football field for a no holds barred game of…catch? Fumbling? We don’t know! They’re doing something, okay?

It’s time for the Kitten Bowl!

What, you thought we were gonna blog about that other game?

For the second straight year the former Kitten Bowl has been renamed the Great American Rescue Bowl, and will feature puppies as well as kittens. It’s moved from its former home at the Hallmark Channel to the Great American Channel, but retains its hosts, its partnership with the North Shore Animal League, and most importantly its adorable furry participants.

You can catch the Great American Rescue Bowl at noon eastern, making it a convenient watch whether you’re headed to a ~~Super Bowl~~ Taylor Swift Bowl party later in the day or you care not for sporting contests that don’t feature four-legged athletes.

If you don’t get the Great American Channel as part of your cable package or you’re a cord-cutter, you can stream it for free on fubo.

While the kittens and puppies are adoptable, this year also includes three special young cats — Meowi Wowi, Hana Lulu, and Surfin Sammy — who were displaced by the Hawaii wildfires of August 2023.

And if you’re hosting a party today and you need a last-minute addition to your menu, Buddy has kindly offered to share his recipe for Buddy’s Extra Turkalicious Turkey Wings:

Turkey wings for guests (24) and for Buddy (48)
Turkey sauce, 2 cups
Buddy’s BBQ Turkey Seasoning
Turkey bacon

In a large bowl, mix the turkey wings with the turkey sauce, then arrange the wings on a non-stick pan and bake for 30 minutes at 400 degrees. Glaze with additional turkey sauce. Garnish with turkey bacon. Goes great with your other favorite turkey-based snacks!

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