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.
The original poster’s list is extensive: “Milo (his real name), Milosh, Baby, Mr Baby, Mr Meh, Mr Mrreh, Mr Moo, Mr Milo, Mr Handsome, Mr Eh Eh, Mr Oo Oo, Mr Oo Oo Ah Ah, Mr Baum Baum, Mr Grumpidy Bumpidy, Mr Ping, Mr Pink Pitty Pads, Mr Orange, Mr Punchy, Mr Puffy Pants, Mr Pretty Pants, Mr Princess”
“Valentina. AKA Tina, Valley Girl, Teenie, Teenie Weenie, Queenie Teenie Beanie, Tina Beana, Fluffer, Fluffercakes, Missy Hissy Cakes, Missy Floofy Pants, Felix, Felick, Felicky, Baby Girl, Mama’s Baby Girl.” another wrote.
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.
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 