The comedian’s animated show for adults imagines life through the eyes of sarcastic street cats.
When a lost kitten says he wishes he’d never been born, scruffy tomcat Gus is in disbelief.
“Don’t ever say that! Life is a gift, and you’re a cat!” Gus says. “Do you know how good that is, to be a cat?”
“Pretty good?” the kitten asks.
“It’s f—ing great!”
That’s one of a few short scenes revealed in the first trailer for Alley Cats, a new Netflix show created by Ricky Gervais. The comedian plays Gus and an ensemble cast provides the voices of the other neighborhood strays, who seem to spend most of their time veering from one lazy activity to the next while zinging each other with one-liners.
Warning: NSFW language in this trailer:
Although it’s animated, Alley Cats is a comedy for adults. Think South Park except with cats and a much more sarcastic, dry sense of humor. As the trailer makes clear, it’s irreverent and over-the-top, and it seems to tie cat humor in well with broader comedy.
One party has produced records. The other has an implausible story. Yet again, a situation highlights the need for new pet laws that reflect the way people see companion animals now, not as they did more than a century ago.
Junie the cat gave birth to a litter of kittens in 2022, was spayed in 2023, and photos show her nursing her babies, relaxing on a favorite blanket, and lazing imperiously on one of her humans’ clean black shirts.
The photos and documents were shared by Brenda Wilson, the Bakersfield, Calif., woman who said her cat still hasn’t been returned to her after an Amazon driver took her several weeks ago.
Since the police say they’re investigating the alleged theft, releasing the documents seems like more of an exasperated act of receipt-producing after the delivery driver, Joshua Gonzalez, went public and said he was retrieving his own cat, not stealing Wilson’s.
You can practically hear Judge Judy snapping “Let’s see the receipts!” as she adjusts her glasses.
In Gonzalez’s version of events he serendipitously happened to discover his own missing cat sitting on the front step of a home that happened to be on his delivery route. At different times referring to the cat as “he,” “she” and “it,” Gonzalez said he’d adopted the feline for his seven-year-old daughter back in October of 2025, still hadn’t bestowed the cat with a name despite her living in his home for seven months, and he knows she’s his cat because she has a “distinct” M-pattern on her forehead.
Gonzalez could be telling the truth. There’s a nonzero chance of that. Truth really can be stranger than fiction. But his version of events stretches credulity to its breaking point.
Literally every tabby cat has the “M” pattern on their heads. It’s what makes them tabbies. He seems as confused about that as he is about Junie’s gender.
Then there’s the video: the entire sequence of events is captured on a Ring camera near Wilson’s front door. Gonzalez doesn’t react like a man who’s stunned to fortuitously stumble over his own missing cat, at an address his job took him to, no less. He doesn’t express shock or surprise, or seem to visibly react at all. He doesn’t even look at the cat. He delivers the package, logs it on his phone, then swoops the feline up in his arms and walks off with her.
If you’d just unexpectedly found your own cat, would you call out to her, extend a hand, and smile with relief when she pads up with a raised tail and happily brushes her cheek against it? Would you check her coat pattern and markings, then check again? When scooping her up, would you talk to her, maybe even plant a kiss on her head, and tell her how happy you are to find her? Would you look happy? Would you leave a note?
Most people would do at least some of those things. Gonzalez does none of them.
And while Wilson has produced date-and-time-stamped photos of Junie going back years, the only photo Gonzalez shared with a local news station was a smartphone snap from the other day showing Junie in his lap.
And that’s half the problem. Neither party would be going to the media and trying to litigate this in public if the police were motivated to take the alleged theft more seriously. That’s not entirely their fault, because in the vast majority of states, laws regarding animals haven’t been updated since the days, more than a century past, when they were written to settle farm and ranch disputes. There’s little guidance from the law, and fewer options. The law doesn’t recognize pets as conscious individuals with feelings, so courts don’t take into account the best interests of the animals either.
Wilson said she doesn’t want anything but the return of Junie. The police would save her family a lot of angst by making that happen. Unless Gonzalez starts producing some truly impressive evidence, familiarizes himself with the gender of the disputed feline and explains his behavior, it’s difficult to believe Junie belongs with anyone besides the Wilsons.
The footballer stars in a TV series that calls cats “unwanted ecological trash” that can be repurposed as “culinary gold.” One cast member claims eating felines is a heroic endeavor: “In some cases you should and could eat it into eradication.”
Earlier this week we noted an Australian celebrity chef’s enthusiasm for eating a “pussycat sandwich,” but Maggie Beer isn’t the only famous Aussie who has raved about eating cats.
An Australian football (soccer) player, Tony Armstrong, spoke in glowing terms about eating cat meat in an interview with The Guardian a year ago, enthusing that it was “the yummiest.”
“We had it in the Western Desert and cooked it in a fire, wrapped in foil,” Armstrong told the newspaper. “It was like the most delicious rotisserie chicken I’ve ever had.”
Armstrong’s interviewer, Sian Cain, the Guardian’s deputy culture editor for Australia, didn’t bat an eye or consider the answer worthy of a follow-up question. She just moved on, asking him if rising early for “breakfast telly” was as difficult as keeping in shape for football.
Armstrong consumed the cat meat for his television show, Eat The Invaders, which casts it as an attempt to “turn our unwanted ecological trash into desirable culinary gold.”
That’s what the life of a cat is casually referred to in certain mainstream segments of Australian culture: “unwanted ecological trash.”
Armstrong and his castmates say they’re on a noble quest to eradicate invasive species by eating them.
As we noted in our post about Beer’s “pussycat sandwich,” the casual way this is talked about in Australia provides a window into the way some people there think about animal life in general and felines in particular.
Not all of them, of course. There are lots of people for whom the idea of eating intelligent companion animals is extremely disturbing. But the idea is widespread enough to make it onto mainstream Australian television without much of an uproar, undoubtedly because Australians are constantly told felines — not industrialization, pollution, pesticides, traffic collisions, man-made environmental hazards, and habitat loss — are almost solely responsible for declining populations of native fauna.
When the choice is between modifying our own behavior or blaming animals who cannot speak for themselves, it’s always easier to shift the blame than to, say, derail development projects or outlaw the use of harmful chemicals.
Just look at the decades-long controversy involving the weedkiller Roundup despite the damage it does to other plants, animals and the people working directly with the substance. Despite successful lawsuits on behalf of cancer patients and evidence that chemicals in the herbicide cause cancer, the EPA says it’s safe. Roundup and other glyphosate-based herbicides are widely used in Australia as well, but that fact is rarely raised in discussions about protecting native fauna and flora.
In a promo for Eating the Invaders, after blaming “colonial ancestors” for introducing non-native species and repeating the claim that cats kill 3 billion animals per year in Australia (an assertion for which there is no evidence), Armstrong casts himself as a crusader righting ecological wrongs.
“But what if we could help,” he asks in a voiceover, “by reimagining this problem as a tasty solution?”
In the series, Armstrong works with chef Vince Trim and “artist and curator” Kirsha Kaechele, who credits herself with staging “immersive feasts [that] transform invasive species into art.”
Armstrong, Kaechele and Trim. Credit: Eat The Invaders
Kaechele says she has no qualms about eating intelligent domesticated animals.
“In some cases you should and could eat it into eradication,” Kaechele says.
Just as there is no hard evidence that cats are the primary force behind species extinction, there is no data to support the idea that randomly killing and eating cats has any positive impact on species survival.
But eating cats isn’t just about saving the world, Kaechele explains. It’s about aesthetics as well.
“In these feasts,” she says, “every element has to be art.”
By that she means she fashions cutlery, centerpieces and containers from the deceased animals.
Kaechele is no stranger to controversy. As an amateur troll, she’s known for attention-grabbing stunts. She’s faced legal complaints for opening an Australian lounge/art gallery that admitted women only, “so men feel as excluded as possible,” and attended one of her subsequent hearings with 20 female supporters who dressed like her and moved in sync with her.
The appearance was “performance art,” she claimed. The judge disagreed, calling it a disrespectful display. Kaechele was also blamed for gentrifying a New Orleans neighborhood after Hurricane Katrina, snapping up and later allegedly abandoning five properties and allowing them to decay. They were subsequently taken over by squatters while Kaechele was MIA, presumably globetrotting and enlivening people’s drab existences by “transforming them into art.”
“Women are better than men in every respect,” Kaechele says in one video, echoing the provocateur Dick Masterson’s assertion that “men are better than women.”
The difference is that Masterson is a character created by a comedian. Whether individual people find his act amusing or not, Masterson performs for an audience of men and women who are well aware his schtick is tongue in cheek. Kaechele may or may not believe what she’s saying, but one thing she’s not doing is comedy. No one’s laughing.
She’s a deeply unserious person who shouldn’t be anywhere near any conversations about conservation.
As for Trim, he can’t bring himself to admit he’s cooking cats. To him, they’re no different than anything else in his fridge or pantry.
“It’s really exciting to be using a lot of these invasive ingredients that we have,” he said.
It’s one thing to consider the possibility that species like cats are signficant drivers of native species extinction, and another to prove they are measurable contributors compared to the hundreds of ways human behavior impacts animal life.
But you have to be really far up your own ass to keep a straight face while claiming you’re saving the world by eating cats, and even more divorced from reality to characterize it as a form of artistic expression.
Perhaps most concerning, telling people that cats are “yummy” could inspire others to try it for themselves, and turning it into a trend would be an entirely new level of barbarism.
Say what you will about people who participate in China’s infamous Yulin dog meat festival. At least they plainly admit they eat dogs and cats because they like the taste without clinging to any pretense that they’re creating high art or saving the planet.
Buddy becomes increasingly agitated as kittens and cats write in to praise him for voicing the beloved Sesame Street character, Elmo.
Dear Little Buddy,
You’re a humble dude, you know that? All this time we’ve gotten to know you through your blog, with your human sharing stories about your many exploits and adventures, and not once did anyone bother to mention you’re the voice of Elmo.
Of course it makes perfect sense. Who better to play a fluffy, adorable character than a fluffy, adorable kitty?
So now the cat’s out of the bag, tell us: what’s it like voicing Elmo? Are you a method actor, and if so, do you take on the personality of Elmo even when the camera isn’t rolling? Is it hot in that costume? Are you friends with Big Bird? Is Oscar really a grouch off camera?
Your fan,
Cornelius the Kitten
Dear Cornelius,
I am NOT Elmo! I don’t play Elmo, I definitely don’t sound like Elmo, and I don’t even like Elmo!
I don’t know where this slander originated, but clearly someone is jealous of me for being an apex predator with huge meowscles, so they spread these hurtful Elmorian rumors.
Buddy the Tiger
Dear Buddy,
I get it! You’re not Elmo just like Bruce Wayne isn’t Batman. Your identity is safe with me! (But good job playing the character, wink wink!)
Your friend,
Cornelius the Kitten
Dear Buddy,
The kitten is right, you sound exactly like Elmo. When you try to roar it sounds like an extremely constipated Elmo a day after eating PF Chang’s. Your trills sound like Elmo using DuoLingo to learn Spanish.
Go to Youtube, search “tiger roaring” and try to keep a straight face while insisting you sound like a tiger instead of Elmo.
Okay, Elmo?
Grover Fan in Gainesville
Grover Fan,
FAKE NEWS!
Buddy
Dear Elmo,
Can I have your autograph? It’s okay, I know you’re really a cat, you can sign it with your paw.
Another year, another Festivus for the Rest of Us.
This year marks the 29th Festivus of the Festivus Revival Era, when Cosmo Kramer convinced Frank Costanza to bring back the beloved holiday that eschews the excessive commercialism of the modern holiday season.
We enthusiastically celebrate Festivus annually at Casa de Buddy and here on the blog, but if you’re joining us for the first time and you’re not familiar with the tradition, we can help get you up to speed by referring back to the wisdom of Frank Costanza, who founded the holiday:
Frank Costanza: Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son. I reached for the last one they had, but so did another man. As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way!
Cosmo Kramer: What happened to the doll?
Frank Costanza: It was destroyed. But out of that, a new holiday was born. A Festivus for the rest of us!
Festivus was popularized by Seinfeld in the 1997 episode “The Strike,” and presented as a holiday celebrated by the Costanza family under duress, at the insistence of Frank Costanza, the insane father of George Costanza.
But the holiday was not invented for the show — it was a real tradition invented by Dan O’Keefe Sr., father of Seinfeld writer Dan O’Keefe, in the 1960s. The younger O’Keefe had no plans to work it into an episode of the sitcom, and blames his “loudmouth brother” for bringing it up at a party for the Seinfeld cast and crew.
Frank Costanza holding the Festivus pole.
O’Keefe pleaded with his colleagues not to write it into an episode, but by that point Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David, the main creative forces behind the show, were already intrigued and couldn’t be talked out of it.
In a 2017 interview, Dan O’Keefe said he believed his father’s made-up holiday was “too weird” for the TV audience, but Seinfeld has always been about the absurd and the nonsensical.
The audience loved it, and in the almost three decades since, Festivus has grown in popularity. It’s celebrated in homes, neighborhood bars, offices and other places as a non-secular holiday for which people don’t have to worry about bringing gifts and it’s okay to be a little grumpy.
As testament to its widespread popularity and its place in modern American culture, Festivus has been recognized as a culturally significant event by the Library of Congress.
Credit: US Library of Congress
On the surface, Festivus is superficially similar to Christmas. It involves a gathering of family and friends, a holiday dinner and a warm atmosphere.
But in a rejection of holiday consumerism, Festivus is not celebrated with a tree or candles. Instead, the primary decoration is an unadorned Festivus pole, usually made out of aluminum. (“I find tinsel distracting,” Frank Costanza explained.)
Festivus dinner begins with the Airing of Grievances and ends with the Feats of Strength.
The head of the family declares “I’ve got a lot of problems with you people, and now you’re gonna hear about it!”
No Festivus is complete without the Airing of Grievances.
It should come as no surprise that cats, who have high standards for service, would have their owh list of disappointments. Behold, Little Buddy the Cat’s grievances for 2025:
BigBuddy: It has come to my attention that you portray me as a wimp on MY blog! Apparently your claims about me running from vacuums and the rustling of paper bags are running jokes in your posts. These heresies shall not go unpunished! I am a tiger!
Readers of PITB: Et tu, friends of Little Buddy? And here I thought I had admirers who appreciate me for being the dashing, beguiling, intelligent and meowscular feline I am. As punishment, I shall refuse to do anything amusing for at least a month, depriving you of stories about my witty ripostes and magnificent adventures.
Smudge the Neighbor Cat: Your time will come soon, my friend. Very soon. Nobody tangles with Buddy and…uh…gets untangled. Or something. You think I don’t know you’ve been surreptitiously marking my front door with your foul stench? I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, so you’d better not try any of your sneaky stuff!
The Jaguars of the Amazon: Once again, you my homies! You know how to make a fellow apex predator feel at home, and you can be reliably called upon when I need a vacuum destroyed or dogs intimidated. I got your backs! I love you guys.
SantaClaws: Last year’s gifts were a bit sub par, if I’m being honest. I’m a good boy, and as a good boy, I deserve toys! I have left the Christmas tree alone this year, I don’t scratch the couch, and I only puked on Big Buddy’s bed once. It’s technically my bed anyway, so it’s not like I did it on purpose. Trust me, I almost felt bad when Big Buddy had to replace the sheets and wash the old ones twice. And I don’t know what you may have heard regarding those vile rumors about me smacking Big Buddy in his sleep, but they’re really light taps with my paw. Smack is such a harsh word. Can I have new toys now?