My mom called my cat by my brother’s name, and that is hilarious!
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.
Despite her advanced age and loss of hearing, Flossie is still “affectionate and playful,” her human says.
When Flossie was born, Mariah Carey, Coolio and Pearl Jam ruled the airwaves alongside a band called Deep Blue Something with their hit, “Breakfast At Tiffany’s.”
Robert Deniro and Al Pacino were kings of the box office for their film, Heat, alongside Robin Williams’ Jumanji and Steve Martin’s Father of the Bride Part II. Bill Clinton was still serving his first term as president, and the internet was in its infancy as a network available to the wider public after years of use by the military and academics, with users connecting via cumbersome and painfully slow modems.
Your humble correspondent was just a kid, and Buddy wouldn’t be born for almost another 20 years.
Yet Flossie’s still going and just celebrated her 30th birthday on Dec. 29. The tortoiseshell was officially named the world’s oldest cat in 2022 when she was 26 years old. Flossie, originally a stray living near a hospital, was adopted by her first human, a healthcare worker. When that woman passed away, her sister became Flossie’s caretaker. And in August of 2022, having outlived two of her humans, Flossie was taken in by the UK’s Cats Protection, who carefully screened applicants until settling on Victoria Green, who lived in Orpington, UK.
“I’ve always wanted to give older cats a comfortable life,” Green said when she was chosen as Flossie’s caretaker.
Flossie was deaf and had “limited eyesight,” veterinarians noted when they helped Guiness World Records verify the long-lived feline’s age. But despite that, Flossie remains “affectionate and playful,” Green said.
“I feel like I’m not sharing my home with the oldest cat. I feel like this is her home and I’m encroaching on her space,” Green told Guinness World Records at the time. “She’s a very nice roommate and we get on very well. I don’t feel like I’m living with a senior.”
The oldest cat on record was Creme Puff of Austin, Texas, who was born in August of 1967 and lived until 1995, when Flossie was born.
We wish the birthday girl a happy one and hope she’s got at least a few more birthdays in her.
There are also categories for top Hollywood-inspired names (Bill Murray, Jack Sparrow), nostalgia-influenced names (Moog, Sega), and nature/space themed names, like Orion and Supernova.
Luna and Milo are the top female and male cat names in 2025, according to an analysis by Rover.
There are several different lists each year sourced from databases like pet insurance registrations or data from microchipping companies, but Rover’s list is based on its own records, which include millions of registrations on the pet services site.
There’s quite a bit of overlap, as expected, and familiar names top this year’s list, including Lilly, Lucy, Nala, Pepper, Willow, Cleo and Daisy for female cats. For male cats, Leo, Oliver, Charlie, Loki, Max, Simba, Jack and Smokey are among the most popular.
Notably absent was the name Buddy.
“What do you mean Buddy is not on the list?” Buddy the Cat said when told about the new data from Rover. “I shall find out who is responsible for these vile heresies and punish them with my righteous fury as the Emperor of Catkind! Muahahaha.”
Click here to view the overall top names list for cats and here for an index of the top trending names broken down into categories like pop culture, sports, nature and nostalgic names. The latter includes names like Bitcoin, Jpeg, Moog (after the monophonic synthesizers invented by Robert Moog), Amiga (after the 80s computer system), Sega and C-3PO.
As Larry marks 15 years as the chief mouser in the UK’s seat of power, No. 10 Downing Street, Britain’s most famous feline is a constant amid rapid change.
At first it didn’t look as if Larry the Cat’s tenure would last long.
The striking white and tabby mix came highly recommended from Battersea Cats and Dogs, a London shelter whose staff said he was one of their most skilled little hunters. Larry, they said, would adjust well to the busy surroundings of the prime minister’s office and residence.
Adjust he did, but not in the way then-Prime Minister David Cameron, No. 10’s staff, and the UK press thought he would. Larry began his tenure by taking long naps on the residence’s front windowsill, paying frequent visits to his “lady friend” Maisie — a mouser living in another government building several doors down — and establishing a territorial rivalry with Palmerston, the Foreign Office’s mascot and mouser.
“In a separate development, it can be revealed that Larry has a girlfriend,” a droll BBC report from 2011 confirmed, while reporting on a cat-themed quiz night fundraiser at No. 10 to ensure the chief mouser’s yums cupboard remained stocked. “Maisie, a cat who lives at the nearby St James’ Park keeper’s cottage, has struck up a relationship with Larry, a spokesman for the Royal Parks has confirmed.
“There is, though, no prospect of kittens, as Larry went under the knife some time ago,” the report continued, speculating that the chief mouser’s love life could explain “why Larry spends most evenings out – and most days fast asleep in 10 Downing Street.”
It didn’t take long for the press to begin running tongue-in-cheek stories about Larry failing to deliver on promises just like every other political animal, and for a while it looked like No. 10 would need another chief rodent exterminator.
But then Larry began covering himself in glory by defending his new domicile not only from rats and mice, but also from a fox, territorial incursions by Palmerston, ill-intentioned politicians and other undesirables.
As the years passed, Larry’s legend grew. He outlasted Cameron, then Cameron’s successor, Theresa May, who admitted she was a dog person and wasn’t fond of Larry, even denying him the use of her office chair for naps. Then there was Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak, and Keir Starmer.
Starmer is Larry’s sixth prime minister, and no one will be surprised if his tenure ends while Larry’s endures. Meanwhile, Palmerston was “retired” to the countryside and only recently returned to politics when he accompanied his human, Andrew Murdoch, to Bermuda when the latter was appointed governor there. Such is the price of incurring Larry’s wrath.
Now at 18 years old, with 15 years as chief mouser under his collar, Larry represents something rare in modern politics: stability and predictability. With the passing of Queen Elizabeth II in 2022, illness and scandal in the royal family, and the usual ephemeral nature of UK politics, Larry has become more important than ever as the stalwart in the country’s seat of power.
Larry’s given the cold shoulder to Irish and Scottish politicians, nuzzled up for scritches from former US President Barack Obama, and forced President Donald Trump to wait before departing No. 10 while taking refuge from the rain under the president’s limo. The famous feline rarely leaves the public guessing when it comes to his thoughts on visiting political figures.
He’s “the most miserable animal you’ll ever meet,” a snubbed Ian Murray, the Scottish Secretary, said after Larry refused to pose for photographs with him. (Murray, it should be noted, was relieved of his post in September, and now holds the lofty title of minister for “culture, media and sport.” Perhaps he and Palmerston can commiserate.)
But that’s part of Larry’s appeal. The chief mouser’s unimpressed reaction to powerful figures has endured him to the public, who shower him with fan mail, treats and toys.
His unintentionally comedic adventures and ability to nap under any circumstances won him the affection of the notoriously fickle UK press, who enjoy watching, photographing and writing about his antics while waiting for the less popular humans inside to update them on the big news of the day.
That’s not hyperbole, by the way: a 2024 Ipsos poll found Larry is more popular than every prime minister to share his home, and the margins aren’t even close.
It also hasn’t escaped the notice of the press that Larry “rules the roost,” and has attentive staff who open the door at No. 10 any time he wants to go in or out. The famous door is actually a blast-proof, steel replica of the wooden original, custom manufactured after the IRA fired a mortar at the residence in 1991. Thus there’s no cat flap, and staff monitoring the door from inside open it as soon as the building’s most enduring resident decides he wants back in.
The prime minister may be the UK’s most powerful political figure on paper, but Larry’s tenure, run of the place, array of servants and adoring fans all prove he’s the real power at No. 10.
Now Larry’s legend will expand even further as the UK’s Channel 4 has commissioned a documentary series on cats from writer-comedian David Baddiel. The series, which is currently filming, will feature Larry in one of its episodes.
Happy 18th birthday, Larry! We hope you see many more years filled with treats, adventures, historic furniture to nap on, and politicians to push around. And if you achieve world peace while you’re at it, no one would be surprised.
Pity the poor pets who must endure being called Shmubbles, Miss Hissy Cakes and Mr. Oo Oo Ah Ah.
In a viral Reddit thread, a user reveals she’s given her cat more than 20 nicknames, and a surprising number of fellow Redditors have weighed in with long lists of names they call their furry friends.
Another: “Luna, which turns into Lu, Fluff, Fluff Bucket, Fluff Butt, Fuzz Butt, Fuzz face, or various meowing sounds.”
Most of the people who responded to the thread have handles that mark them as female, and I’m going to go ahead and assume the vast majority of the others are too.
You just can’t call your cat Shmubbles or Mr. Grumpidy Bumpidy and retain your man card. It is not possible.
Here at Casa de Buddy, we keep it simple: Bud or Buddy. I feel like if I just start freestyling names, little man is going to be confused.
Call me “Mr. Buddy Wuddy” and I’ll murder you, human.
Indeed, that’s the subject of Mollie Hunt’s Oct. 6 post, “What’s In A Name?”, which notes we should call our cats by their proper names for good, practical reasons: not confusing the little ones, getting them accustomed to responding to their names, and the peace of mind that comes with knowing they’ll respond in an emergency.
Research has repeatedly confirmed what we’ve all known anecdotally: domestic felines know their names and they even know the names of other cats they live with. They may not always deem a human worthy of a response, but they hear us and they know we’re calling for them.
I do call Bud other things, but they tend to be invented by my sleep-deprived brain when he insists on screeching in my ears or standing on my face to get me out of bed.
They’re not really nicknames so much as they’re insults, but don’t worry — no egos were bruised in the process. In the past I’ve thrown pillows at him for his relentless assaults on my sleep, and he seems to think that’s hilarious.
So yes, in the momentary anger of getting woken up for the fifth time in an hour, while he’s standing on my face and the tips of his back claws are digging into my cheek, I might mumble “Shut up, you furry little turdball!” or threaten to defenestrate him like an out-of-favor Russian oligarch.
But I dote on the little guy, function as his faithful servant, and try to give him his best life. I’ve also seriously considered constructing a throne for him. What’s a little “annoying little jerk” between friends? It all evens out!
Pain In The Bud 