Tag: turkey

Why Do Americans Love Shooting Cats?

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people in this country?

American cruelty to cats is even more upsetting within the context of human behavior elsewhere. In Turkey, where it’s practically a national pastime to care for felines, people build shelters for strays, welcome them into their shops with food and affection, and kitties are so trusting of humans that mother cats have on several instances brought their kittens into human hospitals and clinics for help.

Then we have ‘Merica, where apparently it’s a sport for people to sit on their front porches drinking beer and shooting stray cats with pellet guns.

Like, for instance, in Long Island this past weekend, where some stain on the human race shot a ginger tabby named Abraham and left him with a pellet lodged in his spine. Or in northern California, where a couple brought their cat to the vet because they thought he’d been attacked by a coyote, only for x-rays to show the little one had been shot several times by someone with a pellet gun. Or Augusta, South Carolina, where a cat was shot with what appears to be a bullet from a 9mm handgun. Or tiny Brookville, Pa., where a man shot his neighbor’s cat for the unthinkable crime of exploring his porch.

hipster with tattoos stroking cute cats on stony fence
Credit: Dmitriy Ganin/Pexels

I have Google News alerts set up for cat-related stuff to mention here on PITB, and a lot of it is great: Compassionate rescues, feline hi-jinx, heroic cats saving kids.

But those stories are always sandwiched in between articles about people shooting cats. Constantly, incessantly, apparently without a thought about the suffering they’re causing sentient animals who have feelings just like we do and experience pain, anxiety and fear the same as us. That’s not conjecture, contrary to what some people might believe, but objective scientific fact as proven experimentally many times over in recent years.

When Americans aren’t shooting cats they’re stealing them, mutilating them and killing them, like the recent nightmare case out of Tennessee: A woman left her cat in the care of a friend while she was traveling, and the friend allowed the cat to roam outside. Another woman saw the cat wandering, didn’t like what she saw and stole the kitty, eventually giving it away to 19-year-old Deamion Robert Davis via Craigslist. Davis now faces charges of animal cruelty for allegedly binding the cat’s paws and stabbing it to death with a screw driver, according to police. Detectives said they traced the killing to Davis by lifting fingerprints from the tape Davis allegedly used to bind the cat.

So because some busybody saw a pet cat on the street and decided a random, sketchy 19-year-old who responded to a Craigslist ad would provide a better home, a woman’s cat was brutally killed.

Meanwhile hatred for cats continues to be driven by bad science, like this meta-analysis of 202 toxoplasma gondii studies by researchers who need to be reminded that correlation does not imply causation. The research team looked at data on toxoplasma infections recorded in wild animals, then with no evidence whatsoever framed their study around the suggestion that cats “may” be and “probably” are transmitting the parasite to wild animals because the rates of infection are higher in urban areas.

Never mind that humans are much more likely to be infected by eating under-cooked food, certain meats, touching contaminated soil, or using utensils that were used to cut contaminated meat and shellfish. The study ignored that fact and posited — again without evidence — that cats are the primary vector for other animals and humans.

It would be nice if people in the scientific community took responsibility for the fact that their research influences the behavior of others, and blaming cats for everything from bird extinctions to parasite infections drives people to do cruel things like cull cats or poison their food. If they’re going to publish studies drawing a link between cats and extinctions or diseases, scientists have a responsibility to make sure there’s a connection more substantial than “we think, therefore we publish.”

That will conclude this rant on human cruelty to animals.

hi this buddy!

hi hi hello this buddy!

can anycat here me.? this buddeh

how does this blogging work?

> serch how blogging work?

> serch how to make blogging work?

hmmm

can anycat here me? this buddy!

> serch hot calico

GRRRRR

stupid interweb compooter not werk Buddy is angry!! dont make buddy angry!!

> Siri! Google!

> serch rly hog calico pitchers

Did you mean: really hog calico pictures?

YES. YES. SHOW.

911410d15dad9114e75e8df4ca1a17b7--farm-animals-piggies

Screenshot 2021-09-03 at 09-29-28 hog calico - Google Search

WTH NO. NONONONO!

> siri serch HOT calico

Calico_Catastrophe_1024x1024

wat?

> serch SEXY calico .

L2ltYWdlcy9wcm9kdWN0L2p1bWJvcy9MQS04NTU2N19tdWx0aWNvbG9yX2FsdDFfbGcuanBn_H_SH483_MW290

STOOPID COMPOOTER!

> serch HOT CALICO CATS!

Calico+100+oc+walked+in+on+my+cat+sitting+like_c757ee_4982303

YEAH!

amazong

> serch amazong

Did you mean: Search Amazon?

YES.

big Buddy cerdit card

big Buddy cerdit card XXXX-XXXXXX-XXXXX

Name: Big Buddy
Address: Buddy housep
ZIP code: wat?
State: hungry

> SHOW TURKEY

Screenshot 2021-09-03 at 09-35-34 Amazon com turkey country

UH WAT

> SHOW TURKEY FOOD

order turkeys how much lots of turkeyzz . treats. treats too. tempatashuns

Screenshot 2021-09-03 at 09-34-40 Amazon com turkey

gimme gimme turkeys

hello? hello?

buddy friends/fans pls help me I give u cerdit car u give me turkeys & pitchers calico & lazer lazer

hello? hihi! hello?

this buddy

Day One: Leaping Away From Love

Buddy licked his lips, belched and rolled over, sighing as he felt the afternoon sun’s warmth on his belly.

It was his favorite time of day and he was enjoying fresh air on the balcony, sitting in his favorite chair and surveying the world below like a little king. If he’d had a belt, he’d loosen it after scarfing down every last morsel of turkey and licking his bowl clean.

He waved his tail, thinking of how he’d pass the time later. Perhaps he would have a nap, then demand that Big Buddy take out the laser pointer. With a little luck, he might be given catnip as well, otherwise he’d have to meow relentlessly for it. Failing that, there was a new plastic bottle ring he’d stashed away for later play, and if Big Buddy were to fall asleep while watching baseball, Buddy could entertain himself by repeatedly waking his human via ambush. That was always delightful.

A squeak interrupted his thoughts, too high for humans to pick up but still well within his own hearing range. He sat up and cocked his head forward as his ears swiveled, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from.

Sudden movement on his peripheral vision snapped his eyes to the target: Down below, among the cars and trees, a tiny animal scurried from beneath the cover of one car to another.

Buddy wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but he knew he wanted to catch it.

He hopped off his throne and crouched low, poking his head through the balcony railing as he tracked the rodent.

The light box inside pumped out its usual weekday sounds: The crack of a ball against wood, the cheers of tens of thousands of humans, and Big Buddy alternately celebrating or sighing in frustration.

For all their supposed seriousness, humans were strangely invested in watching other humans play with toys.

Buddy caught movement beneath the rear bumper of a squat SUV. Two rodential faces peaked out from cover, chittering in human-inaudible frequencies.

His tail thrashed against the floor as he watched the diminutive trespassers brazenly moving about on the edge of his territory. They were mocking him, he was sure of it! He would have his revenge by ruthlessly hunting each of them down and jumping around joyfully on his hind legs, which he always did after he won at hunting games with Buddy the Larger.

The rodential duo took off, abandoning the cover of the SUV for the lower-hanging body and bumper of an old Nissan Skyline.

Bud’s tail thumped furiously. The twitchy little interlopers were getting ready to run again.

Buddy leapt from the balcony before he was consciously aware of what he was doing, meowing an “Oh poop!” as he dropped the 14 feet to the ground. He hit the ground hard but shared the impact on all four limbs. He’d be sore later, but the thought was gone as fast as it came, replaced by the primal instinct that had caused him to jump in the first place: The hunt.

His targets were now well aware of his presence, chittering furiously at each other between cars. Bud stalked the more plump of the two, crouching low so he could track its movement.

A distant subwoofer thumped the air, sending vibrations through the ground to his paw pads. The pudgy rodent took off, gunning for the fence at the far end of the lot and the safety of the trees beyond.

Driven entirely by instinct, Bud gave chase without realizing a car had turned the corner and was pulling into the lot, fast.

“Mrrrrrrooowww!” Buddy exclaimed, dashing away from the vehicle.

It was still moving, still coming toward him with that awful, furious thump from its speakers. Buddy ran and ran until he could run no more: out of the lot, away from his building, up the street, past strange houses emanating strange smells and into a park, where he hoped the car couldn’t chase him.

He collapsed on the grass and sprawled out, chest heaving. That was too close, he thought.

Now he had another problem, one he’d failed to consider when he jumped from the balcony: How would he get back inside? He couldn’t just walk into the apartment building. You needed a human to open the front door, then get past a second door that only opened via some sort of human sorcery that involved waving a little piece of plastic in front of the handle. He knew that much from his night walks with Big Buddy, when the stimulation was almost too much to bear — the smell-taste of flowers at nose level, the spiral cascade of water from the sprinklers, the far-off hum of the deathway, where thousands of cars rumbled down endless lanes of hard human-made ground.

If by luck he was able to slip inside as a human was entering his building, he’d have to cross the lobby, walk down the hallway and finally reach the door to his realm and domicile. Could he reach the door bell? If he meowed loud enough, would Big Bud hear him?

Buddy the Cat

“What do we have here?” Buddy had been so lost in his thoughts and worries that he hadn’t noticed the human walk right up to him. He suddenly felt very vulnerable and rolled onto his stomach.

It was a human boy. He wore a dark baseball cap and a wide grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Easy,” he said, reaching out.

Buddy hissed, arching his back. The boy took another step forward, hand still extended. Buddy retreated a few steps, cautiously keeping his eyes on the boy as the fur on his tail spiked outward.

“Here, kitty kitty,” the boy said mockingly.

Buddy took another step away, then felt a pair of human hands clamp around his belly.

“Gotcha!” said another human boy, who had approached from behind as his friend served as a distraction.

Buddy squirmed, lashing out with his claws.

“Hey!” the second boy said. “The little fucker scratched me!”

“Bad kitty!” the first boy said, slapping Buddy on the top of his head. “Ohohoho! He’s pissed!”

The boys laughed as Buddy struggled.

“Come on,” the first boy said. “There’s a pair of gloves and some beach towels in my mom’s car. We can wrap the little shit up in the towel.”

“Where we going, Spencer?” the second boy said, holding the still-struggling Buddy tight as they walked toward the car.

“We could take him beneath the railroad bridge,” Spencer said as he opened the trunk. “I’ve got half a bottle of lighter fluid. We could have ourselves a little barbecue.”

The boys wrapped Buddy in a towel, muffling their laughter. He heard car doors closing and a crystalline human voice singing through speakers. Vibrations felt through his captor’s hands told him they were moving.

“Careful,” Spencer said after they had parked. “Just hold him, don’t be such a little bitch, dude. He’s not gonna hurt you.”

Buddy didn’t understand what they were planning to do with him, but he instinctively knew his life was in danger. He went slack.

“S’okay,” Spencer’s friend said. “He’s not struggling anymore. I don’t think he has any fight left.”

“Oh, he will,” Spencer said. He pushed back the towel, uncovering Buddy’s face.

“We’re gonna have some fun with you, you little shit,” Spencer said, leaning in close. “We’re gonna…”

Spencer howled as Buddy chomped on his lip with all his might.

Spencer’s shocked friend loosened his grip, and for a second or two Buddy swung from the shrieking teenager’s face, the latter’s panicked breath radiating in hyperventilating blasts. His smirk had evaporated, replaced by flush cheeks and a mask of pain.

Buddy released Spencer’s lip, tasting blood, and ran for his life. As he disappeared into the trees he could hear Spencer sobbing hysterically.

When he was sure the boys weren’t following him, he crossed a human yard in a blur and scurried beneath a short wooden staircase leading to a porch. A lawnmower droned in a yard nearby. In a neighboring basement, someone pounded out the opening kicks and snares of a song about a prince buying flowers.

“And if you want to call me baby…” a male human crooned over the drums and guitar, “just go ahead now!”

As Bud’s breathing slowed and the fear chemicals subsided, a new kind of dread filled the vacuum. Neither his eyes nor his ears nor his nose could tell him where he was.

Happy 5th Of July: Buddy Is Back!

We wish you a very Happy 5th of July: The Return of Buddy!

buddyhappy5th

To mark the occasion, we sat down with everyone’s favorite ridiculous cat for a short interview:

Hey Buddy! What’s up with you lately?

I took a short hiatus. That’s pronounced HI – YAY – TUSS. It sounds like a snack little Roman boys would eat.

We noticed. What have you been doing for the past few weeks?

Eating turkey, working on my meowscles, eating more turkey, and learning to tapdance.

Tapdance?

Yeah, well, I figured if I was gonna wear the hat you see in the picture, I should at least know how to tap dance.

So we hate to rain on your parade, little guy, but shouldn’t it be Happy FOURTH of July?

No.

Why not?

Because the 4th has those infernal things humans call fireworks! I’m not as bothered by them as the dogs in my neighborhood or some of the cats I know, because I’m very brave, but the locals have been setting off fireworks for the last few days you know, blowing off their fingers and stuff, and it’s very taxing when I’m just trying to enjoy a nap.

There’s an amusement park a few miles away, and that interrupted my traditional Sunday Evening Nap. It was vexing.

Right. Just a minor annoyance for you, but fireworks can be very frightening for our lesser four-legged friends.

Exactly. July 5th has no fireworks but it has barbecue leftovers, so you get the barbecue without the explosions.

Also — and this is important — the Yankees don’t play on July 5, which means they can’t possibly lose, which means Big Buddy won’t be all annoyed and stuff, and half-ass my massage.

They suck this year, don’t they?

That’s what I’m told. I usually sleep through their games.

Well it’s good to  have you back, Bud!

I’m glad to be back. And to my loyal fans, you can start sending me turkey again. It’ll go to good use! SEND SEND!

Buddy’s New Fragrance, Litière, Available Anywhere Fine Products Are Sold

PARIS – Buddy the Cat’s much-anticipated new line of fragrances, Litière Eau de Cologne and Litière Parfum Pour Elle, will hit stores just in time for the summer season.

The feline-inspired scents were created in collaboration with the Purrsace perfumery and promise a pheromonal feast fantastique for the olfactory senses.

Litière Eau de Cologne, Buddy’s signature scent for males, “combines a littery musk with the earthy, seductive aura of fresh turkey, cinnamon, triumphant notes of fiery wasabi and subtle hints of tuna. As decadent and lazy as felines themselves, Litière Eau de Cologne works best as a celebration of sedentary existence, of many hours nestled in the warm embrace of a favorite couch spot with the sun on your back. Meowgnificent!” 

Its sister scent, Litière Pour Elle, is “infused with notes of blackberry jam and an oxytocinal essense that evokes kittens snoozing in a purratic pile after their morning milk  This lush and leafy fragrance is designed to be carried by the soft breezes of spring and summer, gently wafting its way toward the olfactory organs of strapping toms and leaving no doubt that its wearer is in heat. With Litière Pour Elle, you’ll have your next litter of kittens in no time.”

Litiere Pour Elle
Litiere Pour Elle: For when you want every tom within five miles to know you’re in heat.

Purrsace is betting big on the novel fragrances, backing a campaign featuring commercials in which a nude Buddy emerges from a hot tub, eases into a relaxed pose and extends his claws as a pair of models towels his luxuriant fur dry.

Another spot is slated to run during the Academy Awards, La Liga, Serie A and Ligue 1 matches, as well as Wimbledon and the French Open.

That advert depicts Buddy with a beret and a baguette, enjoying coffee and croissants on the terrace of a Parisian cafe before female cats recognize him by his scent and run after him. After several frames depicting an intensifying pursuit, the camera pans out to a wider shot showing the streets of Paris overrun with yowling female cats looking for Buddy.

“It has been my life’s l’honor working with Messieur Buddeaux,” Purrsace chief perfumist Guillaume Stéphane Olivier Jean-Henri François Laurent Remontoire said. “Litière will be the aroma of choice for felines sophistiqué!”

parisiancafe2
“Sacre bleu! Un jolie femmes can’t control themselves around me! It must be the Litiere pheromonique!”