My mom has always disliked cats, but some magical bonding moment must have happened the last time she watched Buddy for me because he’s grown in her estimation from a “crazy man” to “a cute cat” and a “good boy.”
A few weeks ago she even excitedly told me she’d gotten a Christmas gift for him. That’s two toys from her in two months! She was so happy to give him the toy — one of those balls that zips around on its own with sensors, changing direction and mimicking prey — when she and I exchanged presents, and beamed as she encouraged him to chase it down.
What the heck is going on here? Feline sorcery?!
And then there was the cherry on top, when she accidentally called Bud “Mike.”
Mike is my brother’s name.
“Oh geez,” my brother replied when I informed him via text.

So now I’m gonna call Buddy Mike, because it’s hilarious and diminishes my brother while elevating Bud. Not all the time, mind you. I can’t be confusing the little guy, and besides, my brother lives overseas, so I’ll only get the opportunity via Facetime. But it’ll be just enough to get under my brother’s skin and remind him every so often that, to our mom, he’s on my cat’s level.



