Hey humans. I’m Buddy. I’m a cat. A girl cat, which is really screwed up, if you think about it. Who names a female cat Buddy? I’ll tell you who. This guy:
He adopted me six years ago when I kept hanging around outside his house and wouldn’t go away. Once he found out I was not, in fact, a boy, he continued calling me Buddy out of stubbornness. So now everyone just assumes I’m a boy. Talk about gender confusion! I mean, yeah, I’m fixed and all that, but girl likes to let her claws out every now and then too.
Jim and his woman human recently moved away and couldn’t bring me with them. I heard them on the metal talky thing using words like “last resort” and “Adam? Are you sure?” and “mid-life crisis” and “lonely bastard.” Next thing I knew, I moved into a new home. This place:
And now I have to be rescued. Seriously. This guy can barely take care of himself. He sits around on the electronic porn box all the time, never wears clothes, and eats nothing but bacon and mayonnaise. I managed to snap a quick photo of him in his normal daily outfit:
This guy and I aren’t getting along. He’s not big into petting or touching and apparently the idea of cleaning up litter is too much for a big old manly man like him. Plus, I think he’s allergic – ever since I showed up, he’s been sneezing and whining about a headache and watery eyes and stupid stuff like that. What a wuss!
I even went on his electronic porn box when he was asleep and pulled up information on Maine Coon cats to show that I’m an easy breed to get along with, but he just read it and then clicked back over to youporn. And last night, I heard him say “make cat jerky out of you” in his sleep, so now I’m really worried!
I’m okay for now, because he’s duct taped to the bed, and I’m getting plenty of sustenance as I slowly suck the soul out of him through his nose and mouth, but I think it might be time to move on. There’s got to be a bunch of humans out there who don’t have allergies, who actually like pets, who aren’t naked all the time, and who don’t live at a strip club. Like, c’mon. There is so much glitter in this house that a cat can’t even lick herself clean.
You want me? Just show up at the house with a can of tuna and a better name than Buddy, and I’m all yours. A name like Princess Buddy!