Grumpy Cat Died This Year. The Internet Killed Her Long Ago.

What the internet giveth, the internet taketh away.

Grumpy CatBruce Glikas/Getty

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.

This was the year the internet lost its cat.

Grumpy Cat, whose real name was “Tardar Sauce,” died peacefully at home after contracting a urinary tract infection, her family announced on Instagram in May. The cat curmudgeon captivated millions of internet users with her iconic frown, which was likely due to feline dwarfism.

Tardar Sauce was born on April 4, 2012, in Morristown, Arizona. She was born unto the internet just five months later, when a photo of her pouting face, scowling just off-camera, appeared on Reddit. The photo quickly went viral, gaining tens of thousands of upvotes in 24 hours. Tardar Sauce was a true overnight sensation.

What began as a simple cat photo morphed into a sprawling business that sold an endless array of useless online products. Far from her humble beginnings as a simple Reddit meme, Grumpy Cat became completely commoditized. Although Tardar Sauce left this cruel world in May, Grumpy Cat died much earlier.

According to the meme-cataloging website Know Your Meme, Grumpy Cat’s first T-shirt line was available just over a week after her Reddit debut. Within a year, merchandise bearing her scornful likeness appeared in Hot Topic and Urban Outfitters. Since then, her face has launched a thousand coffee mugs and swimsuits and beverage napkins and “Nope Book” notebooks, among too many other products to name. In 2013, Grumpy Cat signed an endorsement deal with Friskies, lent her trademark scowl to a line of “Grumppuccino” coffee beverages (and later won $710,000 in a lawsuit after the company created a roasted coffee line without permission), published a book, Grumpy Cat: A Grumpy Book with tips on how to be grumpy (“[F]or most it takes a lifetime of practice”), and won a slew of awards, including the Webby’s Meme of the Year “by a landslide.”  In 2015, Grumpy Cat starred in a comic book alongside her brother Pokey. And in 2016, she joined the cast of Broadway musical Cats. Hundreds of products are still for sale on the official Grumpy Cat website.

It’s unclear how much revenue Grumpy Cat has generated, but it’s been estimated that Grumpy Cat Limited, the company under which all of the cat’s business ventures fell, founded in 2013, brought in as much as $100 million in the first few years. Her wild success came with a price—capitalism ruined Grumpy Cat.

In a matter of months, Grumpy Cat went from a pure, perfect fragment of internet pleasure to an out-of-control gimmick. She was, simply put, a sellout. Grumpy Cat died the moment Grumpy Cat Limited was founded. She died when she signed with Friskies. She died when the first shipment of Grumpy Cat attire arrived at Urban Outfitters. She died a million little deaths over her seven-year life, each with the quiet inevitability which seems to have plagued countless internet celebrities before her (see: Fred/Lucas Cruikshank, The Fat Jewish, and Boo, the “world’s cutest dog,” who also passed this year). She died when our parents began to gleefully share nonsensical memes of her on Facebook, to our horror. She became pervasive, cliché, and flat. Grumpy Cat’s ubiquity meant the end of her novelty. 

What’s so bad about Grumpy Cat raking in all that money for a family that surely loved her? Nothing, really. But in many ways, the rise and fall of Grumpy Cat in the past decade mirrors the rise and fall of the internet itself. It used to be a place you could go to watch stupid videos and indulge in cat photos. Now, those little bits of internet joy are swiftly repackaged with a $15-$30 price tag. Ten years ago, memes weren’t for sale. 

If you look up the definition of “meme” in Merriam-Webster, Grumpy Cat is listed as an example. As it’s defined, a meme is “an amusing or interesting item” that is “spread widely online.” The term was first coined by British scientist Richard Dawkins in his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene, who said that memes are the building blocks of our culture, just as “genes are to life.” In either case, Grumpy Cat no longer fits that definition; Grumpy Cat has become a commodity. 

In the end, Grumpy Cat should be remembered at her best. She was a shining star in the immense pit of despair of the internet. She, like any good meme, brought us joy—and that won’t be forgotten. Should you need it, you can always meander over to Grumpy Cat’s Instagram (which still has 2.7 million followers) to try to feel something again—you’ll just have to dodge a ton of ads to do it.

Rest in peace, Grumpy Cat.

View this post on Instagram

#G4P16

A post shared by Grumpy Cat (@realgrumpycat) on

WE'LL BE BLUNT

It is astonishingly hard keeping a newsroom afloat these days, and we need to raise $253,000 in online donations quickly, by October 7.

The short of it: Last year, we had to cut $1 million from our budget so we could have any chance of breaking even by the time our fiscal year ended in June. And despite a huge rally from so many of you leading up to the deadline, we still came up a bit short on the whole. We can’t let that happen again. We have no wiggle room to begin with, and now we have a hole to dig out of.

Readers also told us to just give it to you straight when we need to ask for your support, and seeing how matter-of-factly explaining our inner workings, our challenges and finances, can bring more of you in has been a real silver lining. So our online membership lead, Brian, lays it all out for you in his personal, insider account (that literally puts his skin in the game!) of how urgent things are right now.

The upshot: Being able to rally $253,000 in donations over these next few weeks is vitally important simply because it is the number that keeps us right on track, helping make sure we don't end up with a bigger gap than can be filled again, helping us avoid any significant (and knowable) cash-flow crunches for now. We used to be more nonchalant about coming up short this time of year, thinking we can make it by the time June rolls around. Not anymore.

Because the in-depth journalism on underreported beats and unique perspectives on the daily news you turn to Mother Jones for is only possible because readers fund us. Corporations and powerful people with deep pockets will never sustain the type of journalism we exist to do. The only investors who won’t let independent, investigative journalism down are the people who actually care about its future—you.

And we need readers to show up for us big time—again.

Getting just 10 percent of the people who care enough about our work to be reading this blurb to part with a few bucks would be utterly transformative for us, and that's very much what we need to keep charging hard in this financially uncertain, high-stakes year.

If you can right now, please support the journalism you get from Mother Jones with a donation at whatever amount works for you. And please do it now, before you move on to whatever you're about to do next and think maybe you'll get to it later, because every gift matters and we really need to see a strong response if we're going to raise the $253,000 we need in less than three weeks.

payment methods

WE'LL BE BLUNT

It is astonishingly hard keeping a newsroom afloat these days, and we need to raise $253,000 in online donations quickly, by October 7.

The short of it: Last year, we had to cut $1 million from our budget so we could have any chance of breaking even by the time our fiscal year ended in June. And despite a huge rally from so many of you leading up to the deadline, we still came up a bit short on the whole. We can’t let that happen again. We have no wiggle room to begin with, and now we have a hole to dig out of.

Readers also told us to just give it to you straight when we need to ask for your support, and seeing how matter-of-factly explaining our inner workings, our challenges and finances, can bring more of you in has been a real silver lining. So our online membership lead, Brian, lays it all out for you in his personal, insider account (that literally puts his skin in the game!) of how urgent things are right now.

The upshot: Being able to rally $253,000 in donations over these next few weeks is vitally important simply because it is the number that keeps us right on track, helping make sure we don't end up with a bigger gap than can be filled again, helping us avoid any significant (and knowable) cash-flow crunches for now. We used to be more nonchalant about coming up short this time of year, thinking we can make it by the time June rolls around. Not anymore.

Because the in-depth journalism on underreported beats and unique perspectives on the daily news you turn to Mother Jones for is only possible because readers fund us. Corporations and powerful people with deep pockets will never sustain the type of journalism we exist to do. The only investors who won’t let independent, investigative journalism down are the people who actually care about its future—you.

And we need readers to show up for us big time—again.

Getting just 10 percent of the people who care enough about our work to be reading this blurb to part with a few bucks would be utterly transformative for us, and that's very much what we need to keep charging hard in this financially uncertain, high-stakes year.

If you can right now, please support the journalism you get from Mother Jones with a donation at whatever amount works for you. And please do it now, before you move on to whatever you're about to do next and think maybe you'll get to it later, because every gift matters and we really need to see a strong response if we're going to raise the $253,000 we need in less than three weeks.

payment methods

We Recommend

Latest

Sign up for our free newsletter

Subscribe to the Mother Jones Daily to have our top stories delivered directly to your inbox.

Get our award-winning magazine

Save big on a full year of investigations, ideas, and insights.

Subscribe

Support our journalism

Help Mother Jones' reporters dig deep with a tax-deductible donation.

Donate