writing – Pain In The Bud

Short Story: The Wrath Of The Cat!

Humans have insulted felinekind for the last time!

Little Buddy was determined to win the prize.

A lavish spread of his most favoritest snacks — including a mouth-watering variety of crunchies, Gouda and American cheese, turkey meaty sticks and more — would be his if he could rush to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, remove a cold beer, and somehow get it back to his human before the end of the half-inning commercial break during a Yankees broadcast.

“Sixty seconds left!” Big Buddy called from the living room.

Little Buddy panicked. He was still working out how to reliably open the refrigerator door and was worried about whether he’d be able to carry the bottle by gripping the slender part with his teeth, or would be forced to roll it.

With a back paw resting against the adjacent cabinet, Buddy wedged his body against the refrigerator door and, with a bit of wiggling, finally pried it open. Yes!

There it was: the cold beer.

“Thirty seconds!” Big Buddy called.

Oh crap! The feline tried to grab the top of the bottle with his teeth, but it was slippery with condensation and cold.

I’ll have to roll it, then, he conceded.

Working quickly, he had the bottle safely on the floor in a few seconds and began rolling, nudging the icy brew with his nose and correcting its direction with his paws. Think of the snacks, he told himself.

He was out of the kitchen and heading toward the living room, beer rolling along, when Yankees announcer Michael Kay’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“And we’re back here in the bottom of the sixth, Yankees up two runs over the Red Sox,” he said.

“Time!” Big Buddy said, then got up and walked over to where his feline pal was sitting dejected with his shoulders slumped.

The human picked up the beer and cracked it open.

“So close,” he said, shaking his head. “What a shame.”

Little Buddy stared at the floor sadly as Big Buddy walked into the kitchen. Then he heard the unmistakable crinkle of a plastic bag. It was music to his ears, a balm for his soul, relief for his rumbling stomach.

I knew Big Buddy wouldn’t do this to me! he thought. He’s gonna give me that snack spread anyway!

The excited feline came skidding to a halt just inside the kitchen doorway and looked up to find his human digging a few mochi nuggets out of a Trader Joe’s bag. His tail, which had been quivering with excitement a second ago, sank like an inflatable air dancer suddenly deprived of wind.

“Mmmm,” the human said. “These are delicious. Don’t you just love snacks?”

He walked back into the living room and collapsed in his chair, leaving Little Buddy staring longingly up at the inaccessible Cabinet of Yums.

The hollow pop of a fastball discharging its kinetic energy off a wooden bat and the roar of the crowd sounded through the speakers in the next room, sending minute rumbles through the floor that tickled Buddy’s paw pads.

The gods of yums are pooping on me from great heights, he thought. What have I done to deserve this cruel fate?

“He’s training you!”

Little Buddy spun around. Who was meowing to him?

“Up here, dummy!” the voice meowed, and Little Buddy looked up to find a cat the color of a tangerine sitting on the outside window ledge and licking one paw.

“What do you mean by ‘he’s training me?'” Buddy asked the mysterious interloper.

The other feline continued raking his tongue along his paw at an insouciant pace, then finally stopped and looked down.

“He’s conditioning you to retrieve bottles of beer,” the interloper said with certainty. “The promise of a reward lit a fire under your behind, so you didn’t even question the ridiculous ‘challenge.’ And that, my boy, is how humans train lesser creatures like dogs. It is beneath us felines and an insult to our dignity!”

Buddy let the new information sink in.

“That bastard!” he meowed.

“Yes!” the tangerine cat replied.

“He’s treating me like a mutt? A dirty dog?”

“An abominable way to treat a friend, and if I may say so, an insult to your stature!”

Buddy seethed. “I’m supposed to be his best pal! His little buddy!”

“Some might call it a stunning display of absolute contempt for your feelings and your stomach,” the other feline nodded. “Criminal, really.”

“I’m gonna kill him!” Buddy meowed angrily.

The orange cat held up both paws.

“Hold off on that for a minute, will you, pal? If you go scorched Earth right away, you’ll have nothing for when this inevitably escalates.”

Buddy nodded reluctantly. “What did you have in mind?”

Tangerine smiled mischievously.

“My friend,” he trilled, “do you know what a toothbrush is?”

Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. At no time has Bud ever been denied a snack, nor has he ever missed a meal.

Meals missed: 0. Snacks deprived of: 0. Snacks consumed: 10,967. Vet assessment: Slightly chubby. Self assessment: Extremely meowscular, meowscle definition hidden by silky soft coat.

Despite Household Ban On Teleporting, Buddy The Cat Enjoys Tormenting His Human With The Ability

“I could tell his brain was fried! LOL!” Little Buddy the Cat said of his human’s inability to reconcile the feline’s mastery over space and time.

NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat lounged on his back right in the middle of the doorway, making sure his human saw him.

“I did the ‘Meep meep, I’m just a cute kitty cat’ thing, you know?” Buddy explained. “Like I’m so innocently dumb I don’t realize it’s a terrible place to laze around.”

His human, Big Buddy, took an exaggerated stride over him, saying “Bud, you really need to stop …” then looked up.

The feline was 15 feet away and sitting on top of a table, head slightly tilted in amusement as his eyes tracked the confounded human.

“Then I watched him look down at where I was a second ago, then back up at me, and I could tell his brain was fried LOL!” the feline said.

Teleporting is technically banned in Casa de Buddy, but the feline has ignored the ban since he was a kitten. The key, he said, is to “use the ability sparingly, so you drive your human slowly insane as they begin to question reality.”

“It’s so much fun!”

Little known fact: felines have the unique ability to manipulate space-time, which they use primarily to extend their napping hours.

Although human scientists and most members of the species deny the feline ability to teleport, Buddy said it’s actually rather simple to manipulate space-time.

“I just kind of scrunch up my face, try to clear my mind of stuff I normally think about — turkey, being really handsome, turkey — and picture the spot in my head,” he explained. “Then I blink and boom! I’m in a new spot!”

His personal record, he claims, was traveling more than 700 feet when he accidentally teleported himself to the roof of a nearby building after hearing its resident female in heat.

“You know, it was such a charming sound,” Buddy recalled, “but once I teleported there, I didn’t know what to do.”

“A reader suggested it was because I didn’t have Testicles, but I didn’t have Pericles or Socrates either,” Buddy mused. “I’m not sure why I would have needed some old Greek guy. Did the ancient Greeks teleport too?”

A statue of Athenian statesman Pericles. It was suggested to Little Buddy the Cat that he didn’t know what to do when encountering a female in heat because he did not bring any ancient Greeks with him.

The tabby cat said he plans to wait a few days until his human forgets about the teleporting incident, then teleport himself into the passenger seat of the car when Big Buddy is about to drive somewhere.

“I’m thinking of saying ‘Don’t forget your seat belt, mister!’ or something simple like ‘So where are we headed, pal?”” Buddy said. “Haha, he’s gonna freak out!”

Little Buddy the Cat initiating his teleport sequence.

Hugely Popular ‘Warrior Cats’ Book Series Scores A TV Adaptation

The novels have sold almost 100 million copies worldwide and have prompted millions of kids to read.

Warrior Cats, a series of books that have sold in excess of 90 million copies worldwide, will be adapted as an animated series.

The new TV series is already in production with Chinese media giant Tencent producing in tandem with El Guiri Studios, an animation studio in Madrid.

The series will likely premiere in 2027.

I read the first volume of Warriors a few years ago to see what all the fuss was about and found a much better story than I expected. The narrative follows a young domestic cat named Rusty who ditches his comfortable life to join a clan of stray and feral cats living in the woods near his former home.

Warriors imagines groups of cats living in clans and working together to survive in a dangerous world.

As he adjusts to his new surroundings, he’s welcomed and supported by the clan’s cats, but others mock him as a “kittypet.” Rusty is determined to prove himself and his value to the clan.

The narrative is well paced, and there’s a compelling mix of world-building and action. The series is written for younger readers, probably appealing most to teens and pre-teens, but the authors — who collectively work under the pen name Erin Hunter — don’t condescend to their audience.

There’s tragedy, despair and death, but the book treats them with appropriate gravity, never trivializing events.

At a time when 28 percent of American adults are functionally illiterate, more than half read below a sixth-grade level, and schools are churning out graduates who struggle to read simple sentences, you’ve got to reach younger readers where they are.

We’re living through an unprecedented backslide in capability, one that cannot be fully explained by COVID-prompted disruptions to education.

Well-written books like Warriors are crucial in getting kids to read and turning it from a chore to something they enjoy. In a way, they’re this generation’s version of Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. Let’s hope the animated series inspires even more kids to pick up the books it’s based on.

Moms Are The Best! Happy Mother’s Day!

Let your mom know you love her today!

I have a lame joke whenever my mom says something like “I’m a pretty good mom, right?”

I say “Sure, if you don’t count like 4,479 other moms,” often going through a list of mothers we know, including her friends, and ranking her below all of them.

But of course she knows I love her wholeheartedly and consider her the best mom, not “just” out of love but also recognition that she had a very difficult job as a single mom to my brother and I. It couldn’t have been easy raising two idiots like us.

My brother turned out to be a good dude, a well-respected member of the community and someone people look up to, and I turned out to be…well, me, but she shouldn’t hold that against herself. One out of two ain’t bad!

Moms make the world work. To be a good mother is to be utterly selfless, to always put your children first no matter how tired you are or how bad of a day you’re having. Moms give of themselves to ensure their children grow up happy, healthy and with a decent shot at life.

From nursing us and wiping our behinds as helpless babies, to soothing us when we scrape our knees as toddlers, to guiding us as we discover the world as kids, tolerating our insistence that we Know Everything as teenagers, and reassuring us during moments of uncertainty as adults, moms are always there for us and want the best for us.

Cats are extraordinary mothers to their kittens, and they don’t have it easy, especially if they are strays or ferals. Their love for their babies is so strong, they’re willing to run into raging fires for them. I’ll never forget a story one reader told me about her adopted stray, Snowy, who delivered kittens shortly after securing her new indoor home. Snowy died defending her babies from a pair of dogs who tried to get at them while they were on a back porch. The woman kept Snowy’s daughter and found good homes for the other kittens.

I’ve blogged about this before, but while I do not call myself Bud’s “dad,” and prefer to think of us as best pals, enablers, and co-conspirators in our ridiculous plots for world domination, I do have parental feelings for my Little Buddy, and consider it my privilege to be his caretaker until the day he finally hits mythical felid maturity and turns into a hulking and fearsome tiger. (Do NOT tell him it’s not going to happen, he is absolutely convinced it’ll be any time now. He’ll be yuge and orange, just you wait!)

But of course he would not be such a fine young Buddy if not for his feline mom, who may not have smacked him upside the head as much as was probably warranted, but nonetheless admirably prepared him to take over his forever home and install himself as King.

So to all the moms out there, human and feline, we love you and we’re eternally grateful for your love.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Kitten Buddy lounging in my lap, probably about 10 weeks old.

Airline Introduces ‘Fat Tax’: Why Pet Parents Should Care

Credited to an “activist investor,” one airline has redoubled efforts to squeeze money out of travelers — and people traveling with pets could be next.

Travelers are calling it a “fat tax.”

The anecdotes, which have been popping up all over social media platforms this week, are similar: flyers show up to the airport, a counter person looks them up and down, then declares the flyer will have to purchase a second seat or give up their spot on the plane.

That this is happening on Southwest Airlines, long praised as the most considerate toward “passengers of size,” is even more surprising. SF Gate attributes the dramatic shift in policy, which is apparently just one of many, to an “activist investor.”

It doesn’t say who that “activist investor” is, but it’s difficult to imagine a person wealthy enough to own a significant portion of an airline developing a personal vendetta after bad experiences in crowded coach. This is something different, driven by the desire to extract more money from travelers with rent-seeking behavior. That sort of thing, an “activist investor” certainly would do. Boosting profits without creating any value has become the calling card of America’s financial ruling class.

Which is why it’s likely this problem was created by the airlines in the first place, and why pet caretakers should be wary. (And no, not because felines like my Bud are a little too fond of the yums.)

Airlines are always looking for ways to add new seats, and every year brings new “innovations” to reclaim space centimeter by centimeter so the airlines can sell extra tickets.

Credit: Anthony Baratier/Wikimedia Commons

We’ve long since become cattle. I’m 5’10” and I’ve been on flights in which my knees barely fit between the seat in front of me and my own. I always wonder: what would I do if I were taller? How the heck does someone, say, 6’2″ sit in one of these seats?

The effort to squeeze more money from travelers isn’t limited to the new “fat tax” either. From “premium economy” upsells that don’t yield more space to ever-shrinking carry-on limits, airlines continue to find new routes into our wallets, making us pay more for the same product.

And that’s why those of us with pets should be worried. It’s a short leap from a “fat tax” to a “cat tax.”

“You’ll be in coach while I take my place in first class, human.”

Most airlines treat people traveling with pets as a nuisance to begin with, and if they haven’t already, Southwest’s “activist investor” is likely to find new ways to squeeze people traveling with cats and dogs. (In my head, I imagine this “activist investor” as a vaguely Stephen Milleresque figure, with twitchy eyes betraying the rage bubbling below a calm exterior. “Let them sit elbow to elbow as they cradle their animals,” he laughs from his first-class seat. “Muahahaha!”)

The fact that this “fat tax” is arbitrary should scare all of us. If the whim of a counter clerk is what determines whether someone has to buy an extra seat, then who’s to say the same clerks won’t look at a cat, declare “He looks like a pain in the ass,” and demand some additional, ludicrously-titled fee?

“That comes to an additional $276.13 with your companion animal convenience surcharge. Thank you for flying with us!”

It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?