I was digging through some old files when I found these photos of a young Buddy the Cat:
What a dapper fellow!“Hey, where’s that steak you promised?”
These were taken in my brother’s apartment on the Upper East Side. It was early summer, so Buddy was probably about four months old, give or take.
He spent almost the entire day in the yard where he made friends with Cosmo the Dog and had lots of fun chasing insects, running around and rolling in the grass. He made friends with every human there, of course. Then when he was tired out from all that playing, he had a super special treat: Steak from the BBQ.
I’d love to bring the little guy to more social events and barbecues, but alas, almost all of them involve dogs who are not Cosmo, and I’m not sure how Bud would do with three or four dogs running around, let alone 20+ people. Smaller gatherings sans pups are a better bet.
The apex predator of the household failed to wake up when a mouse invaded his territory, but totally would have taken care of it had he been awake, obviously.
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat didn’t even lift a paw when a mouse invaded his domicile on Tuesday.
The gray tabby cat, who often brags of his “huge meowscles” and martial prowess, did not stir from his nap and remained asleep for the duration of the encounter, witnesses said.
“He was completely, utterly useless,” his human, Big Buddy, said. “Aren’t cats supposed to be the bane of rodents? Don’t they have super sensitive hearing that can home in on the high frequency squeaks of mice?”
Buddy, who only stirred after the mouse was removed from the premises, stood up and yawned, then asked what all the commotion was about.
“Oh,” he said. “Well that mouse was really lucky I was napping, otherwise I’d do something totally badass.”
As of press time, human concern was centered on acquiring mouse traps at the store, but Buddy insisted that wouldn’t be necessary.
“I will roar and the mouses won’t come near here again,” he said, bellowing in his Elmo-like voice. “There. Problem solved.”
Update: In honor of Buddy’s glorious and momentous victory, we’ve created the following artwork:
Pretty soon no one will want to watch the little guy. 😦
I’ve been in Washington, D.C. the last few days and have left Buddy in the care of his long-time sitter, a friend who has known him since he was a kitten.
You may recall I wrote about howhe attacked her back in the summer of 2020, but she’s such a nice person that she continued to look after him, including during my trip to the Outer Banks earlier this year and my current absence.
If she won’t care for Buddy in the future, I can’t blame her. Bud attacked her this time for the unspeakable crime of…playing with him! (She’s had several cats of her own, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how to interact with a feline.)
I fear I am going to have to hire men armed with tactical gear and ballistic shields, who will breach the apartment, refill Bud’s bowls under the protection of a phalanx of shields, and then make careful egress without taking their eyes off him.
Either that or board him, which probably won’t go well.
Ah well. I’ll see him tomorrow. He’ll probably run to the door to greet me and rub up against me, then remember he’s supposed to be mad at me. He’ll give me a dismissive “Hrrrrrrmmmmph!” and pad off to ignore me for as long as he can before returning to his normal behavior.
We’ll assume people who like to snooze with their furry buddies have normal cats. Buddy is not a normal cat.
Do you sleep better with your cat or dog in bed?
A significant majority of respondents in a recent survey said yes. British polling and survey firm OnePoll asked 2,000 Americans that question, with about 70 percent saying they get better rest with their furry friend next to them.
Most said having their cat or dog snoozing with them made them feel safer and more comfortable, while 58 percent admitted they sleep better with their pet in the bed than their significant other. While most people like having their animals sleep in their beds, some said pets could disrupt their sleep.
Of course if you’re like me, you never really had a choice. There was no adjustment period when I brought Buddy home for the first time. He didn’t hide under the bed and refuse to come out, or dash for the nearest small space.
That’s pedestrian behavior for a cat of his stature. Instead, the little guy came striding out of his carrier like a feline Genghis Khan and immediately started conquering territory.
“So this is my new bedroom, huh?” Buddy the Kitten seemed to say as he mewed excitedly. “Oh, look at this bed. Mine! Hey, that’s a sweet chair. Mine! I’m just gonna climb up onto your desk and survey my new territory if you don’t mind. The desk, by the way? Mine!”
He decided from the very beginning that my bed was his bed, and while I was to be his butler, waiter, masseur and personal groomer, I would also make a fine human mattress.
Thus our nightly routine: Buddy watches me impatiently as I get settled in bed, then makes himself comfortable either by draping himself over me, or wedging himself between my legs.
Readjusting and changing sleeping positions are severely frowned upon. I swear I can hear the annoyance in Bud’s voice, and his impatience as he waits for me to turn over so he can attend to what’s really important — his comfort.
“You should be deeply honored that I have deemed you acceptable to sleep upon. Now stop moving and don’t toss and turn during the night. I need my beauty sleep!”
Do I sleep better with him there? Mentally, yes. Physically, no.
Recently I wrote about his new habit of getting “sleep scritches,” which came about after he realized he could get me to raise my hand while I sleep. It took me a while to realize it was happening: At most I was dimly aware until I had a dream I was petting him, woke up and realized I was holding my hand up while Buddy was rubbing his face against my palm and purring happily.
He doesn’t wake me up for food, since I set aside a bowl of dry kibble and a bowl of fresh water for him before bed every night. If he gets hungry, he slides lazily off the bed, pads over to his little dining nook and quietly munches a snack before going back to sleep.
The little stinker’s proximity, and his tendency to meow in his sleep, also means he gate crashes my subconscious while I’m sleeping and appears in my dreams.
I can’t get away from him, but that’s okay with me.
Training is also fun for your cat since it’s interactive, challenging and a diversion from routine. Plus, kitty gets treats.
My cousin thought I was joking when I told him my cat would come when called, sit when told and give me some love with a high five.
“Get outta here,” he said as we watched an NBA playoff game.
“Okay then,” I said. “Hey Bud!”
Buddy popped up from wherever he’d been lounging with a “Mrrrrrrrrppp!” He regarded me quizzically with his parakeet green eyes, knowing there was probably a treat in it for him as he padded toward me.
“Sit,” I said, gesturing for him to park his behind about two feet away from me. He sat.
“High five!” I said as Buddy leaned forward and slapped his paw against my palm.
I tossed him a treat for a job well done. If it were up to Bud, we’d high-five another 10 times.
There are a lot of misconceptions about cats, and one of them is the idea that felines aren’t amenable to training. It’s why people use the phrase “trying to herd cats” to describe an impossible task.
People don’t expect to see a cat complying, and they definitely don’t expect to see our feline friends pulling off tricks, which makes it more fun to defy expectations.
It’s easy to train your cat to pull off simple tricks — so easy that I almost couldn’t believe it when Bud was reliably high fiving me within a week.
It makes for a good party trick and a way to bond with your feline friend.
Teaching a cat to sit is a prerequisite for high fives. It’s a straightforward and easy process.
After that, it’s really just a matter of building trust with your cat so she’ll allow you first to touch her paw, then to gently take it in your hand and raise it. The first few sessions, all you need to do is touch or hold your cat’s paw. On the second day, start to raise it slightly.
Cats don’t do well with long training sessions anyway, so the time commitment is minimal. One or two sessions a day, 10 to 15 minutes each.
Every time you touch kitty’s paw, bring it a little bit higher than the last time, rewarding your cat with encouragement and a treat. After a few sessions, your cat will anticipate this new ritual you’ve got going and will raise her paw as soon as you start.
The last step is holding kitty’s paw against your outstretched palm for just a second or two, then rewarding her with a treat.
That’s it. You’re done.
Run through the trick a few times a day after your cat’s got it down, to reinforce good high fiving form and whichever affirmations you choose. (I chose to say “Good boy!” each time Bud pulled it off rather than use a clicker.) Either method works, since the important things are consistency and positive reinforcement immediately after your cat does well. You want to make sure you click or say “Good boy!” right away so your cat knows the praise is triggered by a successful high five. (Or an intermediary paw raise if you’re still working on the trick.)
For a more detailed breakdown of how to do it, check out this video from CatManToo, a professional dog trainer who adjusted his methods for cats. This is the method I used to train Bud. Again, you don’t actually need a clicker, just a consistent method of feedback to signal that your cat is doing well:
Pain In The Bud 