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.
Another year, another Festivus for the Rest of Us.
This year marks the 29th Festivus of the Festivus Revival Era, when Cosmo Kramer convinced Frank Costanza to bring back the beloved holiday that eschews the excessive commercialism of the modern holiday season.
We enthusiastically celebrate Festivus annually at Casa de Buddy and here on the blog, but if you’re joining us for the first time and you’re not familiar with the tradition, we can help get you up to speed by referring back to the wisdom of Frank Costanza, who founded the holiday:
Frank Costanza: Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son. I reached for the last one they had, but so did another man. As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way!
Cosmo Kramer: What happened to the doll?
Frank Costanza: It was destroyed. But out of that, a new holiday was born. A Festivus for the rest of us!
Festivus was popularized by Seinfeld in the 1997 episode “The Strike,” and presented as a holiday celebrated by the Costanza family under duress, at the insistence of Frank Costanza, the insane father of George Costanza.
But the holiday was not invented for the show — it was a real tradition invented by Dan O’Keefe Sr., father of Seinfeld writer Dan O’Keefe, in the 1960s. The younger O’Keefe had no plans to work it into an episode of the sitcom, and blames his “loudmouth brother” for bringing it up at a party for the Seinfeld cast and crew.
Frank Costanza holding the Festivus pole.
O’Keefe pleaded with his colleagues not to write it into an episode, but by that point Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David, the main creative forces behind the show, were already intrigued and couldn’t be talked out of it.
In a 2017 interview, Dan O’Keefe said he believed his father’s made-up holiday was “too weird” for the TV audience, but Seinfeld has always been about the absurd and the nonsensical.
The audience loved it, and in the almost three decades since, Festivus has grown in popularity. It’s celebrated in homes, neighborhood bars, offices and other places as a non-secular holiday for which people don’t have to worry about bringing gifts and it’s okay to be a little grumpy.
As testament to its widespread popularity and its place in modern American culture, Festivus has been recognized as a culturally significant event by the Library of Congress.
Credit: US Library of Congress
On the surface, Festivus is superficially similar to Christmas. It involves a gathering of family and friends, a holiday dinner and a warm atmosphere.
But in a rejection of holiday consumerism, Festivus is not celebrated with a tree or candles. Instead, the primary decoration is an unadorned Festivus pole, usually made out of aluminum. (“I find tinsel distracting,” Frank Costanza explained.)
Festivus dinner begins with the Airing of Grievances and ends with the Feats of Strength.
The head of the family declares “I’ve got a lot of problems with you people, and now you’re gonna hear about it!”
No Festivus is complete without the Airing of Grievances.
It should come as no surprise that cats, who have high standards for service, would have their owh list of disappointments. Behold, Little Buddy the Cat’s grievances for 2025:
BigBuddy: It has come to my attention that you portray me as a wimp on MY blog! Apparently your claims about me running from vacuums and the rustling of paper bags are running jokes in your posts. These heresies shall not go unpunished! I am a tiger!
Readers of PITB: Et tu, friends of Little Buddy? And here I thought I had admirers who appreciate me for being the dashing, beguiling, intelligent and meowscular feline I am. As punishment, I shall refuse to do anything amusing for at least a month, depriving you of stories about my witty ripostes and magnificent adventures.
Smudge the Neighbor Cat: Your time will come soon, my friend. Very soon. Nobody tangles with Buddy and…uh…gets untangled. Or something. You think I don’t know you’ve been surreptitiously marking my front door with your foul stench? I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, so you’d better not try any of your sneaky stuff!
The Jaguars of the Amazon: Once again, you my homies! You know how to make a fellow apex predator feel at home, and you can be reliably called upon when I need a vacuum destroyed or dogs intimidated. I got your backs! I love you guys.
SantaClaws: Last year’s gifts were a bit sub par, if I’m being honest. I’m a good boy, and as a good boy, I deserve toys! I have left the Christmas tree alone this year, I don’t scratch the couch, and I only puked on Big Buddy’s bed once. It’s technically my bed anyway, so it’s not like I did it on purpose. Trust me, I almost felt bad when Big Buddy had to replace the sheets and wash the old ones twice. And I don’t know what you may have heard regarding those vile rumors about me smacking Big Buddy in his sleep, but they’re really light taps with my paw. Smack is such a harsh word. Can I have new toys now?
Pain In The Bud 