In the whimsical world of Somerville, Massachusetts, local politics has taken an unexpected — and utterly adorable — turn. What began as a neighborhood joke has morphed into a full-fledged mayoral campaign involving a host of furry, feathered, and even shelled candidates.
The fictional role of “Bike Path Mayor,” initially created to explain a friendly neighborhood cat’s presence on the local trail, has snowballed into a raucous and competitive election featuring cats, dogs, birds, reptiles, and rodents — all campaigning for votes from amused and enthusiastic residents. In a race that blurs the line between satire and civic engagement, one thing is clear: this election is paws-itively wild.
From Cat Candidacy to Political Pandemonium
The campaign’s origin lies with Berry, a sociable indoor-outdoor tabby whose owner, Mallory Bisset, decided to stick up a light-hearted poster along Somerville’s beloved community bike path. The poster declared Berry the “Bike Path Mayor,” a tongue-in-cheek message meant to inform passersby that the friendly feline was no stray — just a trail-loving cat with a penchant for mingling. What Bisset didn’t anticipate, however, was that Berry’s new title would spark a political frenzy.
Soon after Berry’s poster made its debut, it caught the eye — and the competitive spirit — of another feline local known as Orange Cat. Declaring the appointment of Berry as “undemocratic,” Orange Cat’s owner, Janet McNamara, launched a rival campaign promoting “fair and free elections.”
The claws were officially out. Posters popped up around town as both cats vied for support, while the community watched in growing amusement. Online forums like the Somerville Discord began tracking the drama, sharing sightings of both Berry and Orange Cat strolling regally along the trail, each winning over hearts and minds — and voters.
How can Minneapolis even call itself a liberal hellhole if we don’t have a Bike Path Cat Mayor? pic.twitter.com/9vyOAEav89
— Mike Norton (@NortonMpls) July 9, 2025
What had started as a playful notice quickly snowballed into a full-scale mock election, complete with campaign slogans, rival parties, and even political intrigue, including the mysterious disappearance (and eventual reappearance) of Berry’s campaign signs. Berry ran under the TabbyCat Party with promises to “Make Cats Outside Again,” while Orange Cat’s signs bore the declaration that the campaign was “Paid for by the Catalyst Party.”
The Animal Kingdom Throws Its Hat in the Ring
While Berry and Orange Cat were early frontrunners, the feline field didn’t remain exclusive for long. Inspired by the growing buzz and the sheer charm of the idea, dozens of other cats soon entered the fray. Each came equipped with clever slogans and unique platforms.
Pirate ran on a populist message of “More Kibble For All,” while Puzzle took a more leisurely approach with a pro-catnap agenda. Freya launched the Com-meow-nist Party, advocating for equality and “Frisky’s South 4 All.” Then there was Minerva, whose mysterious campaign simply promised “Crime,” leaving voters equal parts curious and alarmed.
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But this catwalk of candidates was soon joined by members of the broader animal kingdom. A dog duo, Duke and Ella, entered the race on a shared ticket with the cheeky tagline, “You got anyone betta?” Their presence divided public opinion. While some voters appreciated their charisma, others, like McNamara, dismissed the idea of a canine mayor as “ridiculous.” Nonetheless, the pair’s popularity grew, challenging the cat monopoly.

The political zoo didn’t stop there. As of the latest count, a colorful parrot named Timber had joined the campaign trail, adding a feathered flair to the proceedings. Ms. Potato, a guinea pig with an affable expression, entered the race representing small mammals everywhere. There was also a massive serpent candidate named Large Snake, and even a wise tortoise named Nagi, whose slow-and-steady demeanor appealed to voters seeking seasoned leadership. “I’m a big fan of Nagi the tortoise,” said one voter, Gabe Smith. “I think his age and experience is good.”
As the race expanded, the mayoral contest evolved into a vibrant community event. Locals have embraced the madness with gusto, posting handmade signs, holding informal debates in gardens and on sidewalks, and snapping photos of candidates mid-stroll. With every new contender, the campaign became a celebration of Somerville’s sense of humor, creativity, and neighborly charm.
Democracy, Discord, and the Cat-alyst of Change
Despite the chaos, residents are treating the campaign with surprising sincerity. Voters discuss candidate platforms as if they were real, attending makeshift “town halls” held in backyards and along the trail. Some have even proposed alternative positions for less competitive candidates — attorney general, chief of staff, or even public relations officer.
Wasil the cat is reportedly running for attorney general, while Whiskers is making a bid for chief of staff. The mock government is expanding, and the lines between satire and affection for community pets are delightfully blurred.
The campaign’s visibility has also increased thanks to a QR code placed strategically along the bike path, where voters can scan and cast their ballot. The code links to a form where residents can vote for their preferred candidate — though the criteria for election seem to hinge more on cuteness and charisma than actual policy proposals.

Meanwhile, the stakes — imaginary as they may be — continue to rise. Tensions flared when Berry’s campaign signs were stolen, leading to murmurs of “political sabotage.” But signs were soon re-posted, this time with stronger messaging and even a renewed call for feline unity. The incident only fueled public interest, and now the entire neighborhood eagerly awaits the results of this delightfully absurd election.
The final vote count and winner will be announced on September 5, giving each candidate a full month to charm the community, sway the electorate, and maybe even share a cuddle or two. As residents stroll the bike path with their pets, they stop to admire the campaign posters, share stories of their favorite animal candidates, and discuss the future of trail leadership with a level of enthusiasm typically reserved for real-life political races.
This may be a parody election, but it reflects something deeply genuine: a neighborhood coming together through creativity, humor, and shared affection for their four-legged (and no-legged) friends. In a world often weighed down by serious news and high-stakes politics, Somerville’s “Bike Path Mayor” campaign is a breath of fresh air — a reminder that democracy can be both hilarious and heartwarming.
And in the end, whether a cat, dog, bird, guinea pig, snake, or tortoise takes the win, the true victor is community spirit. As one resident put it, “We’re all just voting for joy.”