senior cat – Pain In The Bud

How Do You Keep Your Cat Interested In Play Time?

The challenges of getting a lazy cat interested in play time and toys again.

Buddy is friendly, outgoing and incredibly vocal, but he’s always been a bit lazy.

His preferred method of getting down from the couch isn’t jumping — although he does jump sometimes — it’s slowly oozing off the cushion like he’s liquid, taking the path of least resistance and letting gravity do all the work until he drops down and lands with a “Mmmrrrrrppp!”

When we wake up, the first thing he does is demand a snack, then he lays down for First Nap, apparently because the act of chewing and swallowing is so demanding.

Brave Buddy — “Now’s an excellent time for a nap.”

While he used to chase the laser with a fury and jump several times his own height to paw at it — even after figuring out it’s light fired out of a pen held by me — nowadays he can’t be bothered. At best he halfheartedly chases it for a bit and then loses interest even though I make an effort to move the laser like prey, as I do with his wand toys.

Worst of all, catnip makes him even lazier because he doesn’t just sniff the damn stuff, he eats it. I try to get him interested in his favorite wand toy when he’s buzzing on a heady combination of ‘nip and silver vine, but he won’t chase it. He just rolls onto his back and paws at it lazily, maybe getting in a few “rabbit kicks” if he’s feeling feisty.

All of this would be funny if he wasn’t about to turn 10 years old and if he didn’t tip the scale at about a pound and a half to two pounds above his normal body weight when the vet weighed him a few months ago.

“Hey fat boy!” I tell him, getting the familiar “Brrrrrr!” in response. (He’s a big time triller. Feline linguists estimate at least 60 percent of the Buddinese dialect consists of trills of various pitch, length and intensity.)

Fat Boy lost most of the excess weight during a particularly brutal stretch when he screeched at me for snacks constantly and I had to deny him most of the time. At least with kids you can explain things to ’em. I’ve got no way of communicating to the Budster that he’s a Chubster.

Since then he’s put some of the weight back on, so I’ve gotta do something.

Here’s my plan:

Training him to do new tricks. He already knows come, stop, sit and high-five, so we’re gonna have to try something new, like teaching him to roll and maybe teaching him to jump on my shoulder and “ride” around with me. Training is mentally stimulating, it should be fun for him, and it lays the groundwork for more challenging tricks.
A cat obstacle course! I can rig something up with his tunnel, some boxes and some “hazards” that he must traverse in order to get his paws on some catnip.
Snacks dispensed via puzzle feeder only. None of that free-feeding when he gavones the stuff down like he’s starving.
Rotating toys. Admittedly I haven’t been very good about doing that. Almost every guide mentions rotating cat toys so your little buddies don’t get tired of them.
A mirror so he can see how ~~ripped~~ chubby he’s gotten. He really needs to see himself loafing. It’s not pretty.

Okay that last one is a joke, mostly because I’m pretty sure he’ll just admire his “meowscles” in the mirror. Cats are masters of self deception. Bud is scared of rustling paper bags and absolutely terrified of vacuums, yet he still thinks he’s a hulking tiger. That’s impressive cognitive dissonance.

Meatloafing Buddy — This is by far the fattest-looking photo of Buddy I could find. He’s in a super-meatloaf pose here, looking like a chonkmaster.

So we shall embark on this grand endeavor, and I’ll report back here to catalog successes and failures. Hopefully more of the former.

Buddy will always be like a baby to me, and I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he’s now a “senior” cat, but he is and it’s on me to make sure he remains active so he hopefully lives at least another 10 years in good health. There are many adventures yet to be had, many more schemes for world domination to hatch, and more turkey to eat.

‘Lazy’ Cat Earns Guinness Record For Loudest Purr

Bella the cat’s purrs are so loud that she often surprises visitors to the Spink home.

A UK cat’s purr is so loud that she’s been known to drown out TVs in her home and startle guests.

Her humans have long joked that she’s got the loudest purr in the world.

Now Bella, a 14-year-old tabby living in Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, has the record to prove it. After a team from Guinness World Records visited the Spink family in their home, sound-proofed the living room and carefully sampled Bella’s motorboat-like buzz with specialized audio equipment, the organization officially deemed Bella the record-holder for the world’s loudest purr.

Bella’s happy noise registered just shy of 55 decibels, a level which puts it in the range of a moderately busy office or a typical human conversation — much louder than typical for her species. She may even rival pumas, who despite their size can purr (loudly) but cannot roar.

Bella the Loud Purr Cat — Bella, pictured here, is the “queen” of her home, which she shares with another cat as well as her human servants. Credit: Guinness World Records

Bella isn’t just a loud purrer, she enthusiastically purrs whenever she knows food is on its way or she gets scritches from one of her human family members. Guests in the home are often taken aback by how loud Bella’s happy sound is.

“Friends and family always notice Bella’s loud purr, everyone comments ‘what’s that loud noise?” her human, Nicole Spink, told Guinness. “‘Oh, it’s the cat’. It’s just Bella being happy!”

When she’s not purring or hanging out with her family, Bella is fond of long naps.

“She’s a stubborn little old lady, and she does how she pleases,” said Spink. In the home they share, she admitted “it is very much Queen Bella’s world.”

Of course the relevant question for Buddy and his admirers is “Does Guinness have a record for world’s quietest purr?”

If they do, Buddy may very well be in the running with a purr that usually can’t be heard unless you get up close and press your ear right up against the little guy. Usually I’m unaware he’s purring unless I rub his head or he lays down on my chest and I can feel the buzzing. That makes it even more special on the rare occasions when I can actually hear his purr, which lets me know he’s especially content.

Congratulations to Bella and her humans. Maybe they can get a smart TV with a Bella Mode that adjusts dialogue in response to ambient noise similar to the way car sound systems automatically adjust when windows are rolled down or the cabin gets noisier at highway speeds. Or they can just turn on subtitles like the rest of us, since dialogue is all over the place and often unintelligible these days.

Header image credit Guinness World Records

Frankie Sad Eyes Has Been Adopted!

The little guy lost it all when he was surrendered at 11 years old, but now he’s got a new home and a new human to dote on him.

Every once in a while a cat’s story will tug at the heartstrings, and while Bud and I are mostly impervious to that sort of thing (being so manly that we dominate our emotions, obviously), we couldn’t help but become invested in the story of Frankie Sad Eyes.

The handsome 11-year-old was surrendered by his human at an age when he should have been kicking back and telling kittens what it was like Back In His Day, and his hooded blue peepers seemed to reflect his sadness at losing everything he’d known.

In my head, I imagined Frankie and Buddy teaming up, kind of a bad cop/bad cop duo who would keep the neighborhood cats on their toes and extort treats from them.

“We don’t like it when cats don’t pay their protection yums, do we, Buddy?”

“No we don’t, Frankie.”

“It would be a shame if anything were to happen to this spiffy cat condo, wouldn’t it, Buddy?”

“That’s right, Frankie. A real shame indeed.”

Alas, Frankie doesn’t get along with other cats and Bud is a bit of a jerk when he wants to be, so it could never happen. There can be only one king here.

Instead we were content to follow Frankie’s progress from afar, with the staff at Tabby’s Place in Ringoes, NJ, providing regular updates on his health and his interactions with other cats. The latter usually involved Frankie having to “educate” his peers with a stiff paw, but also some positive exchanges as well.

Still, it was clear that Frankie needed to be the only cat in his own kingdom, and staff at Tabby’s Place were able to match the mercurial moggie with a human who will dutifully attend to his needs, make sure his new realm isn’t sullied by the presence of other cats, and provide a chill environment suited to a senior cat. At heart there’s no doubt Frankie’s a good boy. He just needs his space.

Tabby’s Place said farewell to Frankie with this video of his pre-departure “victory lap,” and it was clear from the send-off he received that he’d touched a lot of hearts during his stay, even if he did smack a lot of cats too.

Good luck, dear Frankie, and take it easy on your new human, will ya? We have no doubt she’ll dote on you like the king you are.