sleep – Pain In The Bud

Some People Bestow An Absurd Number Of Nicknames On Their Cats

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.

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.

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!

What nicknames do you call your cats?
byu/Aged_Goodness1 incats

A Vet Says ‘It Matters What You Say To Your Cat.’ Ruh Roh!

I love my cat, except when he’s standing on my head and screeching into my ear at 80 decibels to make sure sleep is not an option.

Regular readers of this blog know I dote on my cat.

I don’t call him “Your Grace” without reason. He always eats first. He regularly uses me as his pillow. He knows how to manipulate me, he always gets what he wants, and I’ve been told many times how he’s got me “wrapped around his paw.”

He rules the roost, and has done so since the night he arrived as a baby and came striding out of his carrier like a furry little Ghenghis Khan, conquering everything in sight.

No one can doubt that I love the little guy.

But if you were a fly on the wall when I wake up, well, you might think differently. Bud is, to put it bluntly, absolutely relentless when he wants something, which puts us at odds when it comes to that most crucial commodity, sleep.

Some of the most vile things that have ever come out of my mouth have been prompted by the little guy’s snooze-disturbing antics. I’ve called him ALF (Annoying Little F—-er), I’ve threatened to sell him to the local Chinese restaurant, I’ve thrown pillows at him, and when my sleep-deprived brain can’t come up with something more creative, I half-mumble “Shut up, you furry little turdball!”

Buddy roaring — Buddy the Cat: Never at a loss for meows.

Those are the more tame ones! The worst thing, the bit that makes me feel bad, is that Bud just wants me to wake up so we can hang out and be buddies.

He doesn’t want food. He’s got a bowl of dry food set out for him before bed every night precisely so he doesn’t have to wake me up. Nope. He wants to knead my shoulder, purr up a storm and have me scratch his chin while I tell him what a good boy he is. And instead of that, I’m turtling up beneath the blanket, pillow over my head, telling him he’ll be served as General Tsao’s Buddy if he doesn’t shut his trap.

All this time I’ve told myself that it’s okay because he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, and he knows I wouldn’t harm a hair on his head.

But what if he does understand some of it?

That’s the subject of a new column by Karin Spicer. Writing in the Dayton Daily News, Spicer describes her morning ritual with her cat, Pip, and how she’s encouraged her naturally vocal cat to vocalize even more by talking to him.

Buddy from above — “No sleep for you, human! There are foreheads to rub, chins to scratch and ‘good boys’ to be said!”

Like Pip, Bud is a naturally talkative cat, and like Pip, his motor mouth tendencies have been cultivated by plenty of attention, affection and interaction.

“Cats want to bond with their owners,” says Catster’s Michelle Gunter, who is quoted in Spicer’s column about Pip. “If you take the time to communicate with them in soft, calming tones, that bond will strengthen faster. Your tone and the affection you offer during these periods can help show your cat that you love them and want to spend time with them.”

You mean to tell me all this time I’ve been undoing some of that bonding by hurling vile invective at my Buddy when he tries to annoy me out of sleep?

You mean to tell me he can infer by my tone of voice that I’m threatening to sell him to Somali pirates for $15 and a pack of gum?!?

Sheeeeit!

Disclaimer: No Buddies were harmed in the creation of this content, except perhaps for some bruised egos.

Bud talking — “Mrrrrrrroooowww! Meeeeerrrrrooowww!! Mrrrrrrrp! Yeeeeeeooo!!! MEOW!”

Buddy The Cat’s ‘The Art Of Napping’ Debuts Atop NYT Bestseller List

The book received glowing reviews for its comprehensive approach to the world of slumber and promises something for every type of napper.

A new book on napping from the world’s most prolific snoozer has taken the sleep enthusiast community by storm.

“The Art of Napping: The History and Technique of Dozing Off” by Buddy the Cat bills itself as “the world’s most comprehensive guide to taking a siesta” and a “manual on how to commit yourself to a lifestyle of leisure and laziness.”

It includes an illustrated history of sleep science, from its superstition-mired origins to the highly specialized field of modern-day napology, following the rich sedentary traditions of various cultures.

“The chapter contrasting ancient Sumerian nap-walking with Syracusan Somnambulism is not only heavy with detail, it’ll put you to sleep almost immediately,” said Rusty LeFelino, chaircat of the Snooze Studies Department at the University of Catlanta.

“Nap on tatami mat under cherry blossoms” by Hirotaro Buddishida, 1646, is one of many historical depictions of shut-eye included in The Art of Napping.

Reviewers were equally effusive with their praise.

“Buddy the Cat dozes headfirst into the world of segmented slumber, documenting everything from Chicago-Style Snoozing to indigenous bedding techniques pioneered by the jaguars of the Pantanal,” reads a starred review in Publisher’s Weekly. “Whether you’re a weekend warrior who enjoys drooling on your couch during baseball games or a committed napper who swears by episodic DaVinci Sleep, there’s something for everyone in this beautifully bound volume.”

The New York-based feline spent more than a year researching and getting paws-on experience for the book. He visited the California headquarters of Google with its famous employee nap pods, spent a week sleeping under the stars with the pumas of the Pacific Northwest, and interviewed lucid dreamers to find out whether it’s possible to nap within a nap a la Inception.

“Buddy leaves no pillow unturned in his quest for the truth, with spectacularly stale prose that will have even the over-caffeinated yawning into the back of their paws,” a reviewer for Narcolepsy Daily wrote. “Get yourself a cozy blanket, curl up with Buddy and let the Z’s commence.”

Jungle Napping — Southern Siesta: The author spent several weeks in the Amazon napping with jaguars, jaguarundis and ocelots, an experience described in a yawn-inducing chapter of The Art of Napping.

Sleeping_cat — “The ability to nap anywhere at any time is the mark of a master snoozer,” Buddy writes in his new book. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Cats May Negatively Impact Your Sleep, But There’s Nothing You Can Do About It, Human!

Who are we to deny our feline masters their chosen sleeping spots?

Newsweek has a new interview with a veterinarian who warns that allowing your cats on your bed could be bad for sleep, but admits her own miniature pride rules the bed and often crowds her halfway off the mattress.

The main takeaway is that allowing your feline overlords on your bed can have positives and negatives, but good luck trying to do anything about it.

Of course no one quoted in the story says that outright, but the solutions they offer are limited to getting an air filter, washing your sheets more often, trying to train your cat to stay in one spot on the bed (lol), and keeping kittens off the bed from the very beginning, which is a diplomatic way of admitting if your cat is an adult, you’ve got no say in the matter.

I’ve often said that when I brought Buddy home I was prepared for a skittish cat who might dive under the bed and not emerge for days or weeks except to eat. That’s what many of the guides for first-time kitten adopters said, anyway.

But Bud defied expectations and came striding out of his carrier like a furry little Genghis Khan who just started conquering shit.

“Ooh, nice chair. Mine! I like this desk, this’ll make a nice napping spot. Mine! What’s this? You sleep here? Not anymore. Mine! Well, okay, you can sleep here too I guess…”

I realized immediately I was not going to be able to keep him off the bed, and I was already feeling awful that I’d just taken him from his mom and brought him to a strange new place, so there was no chance I was going to lock him out of my bedroom even if he did wage a nightly war on my feet and ricochet around the bedroom, gleefully cackling in the dark after successfully startling me out of sleep.

It’s fair to say I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into in those first few weeks, especially when he began coming up with more diabolic ways of torturing me. Those torture methods culminated with The High Jump, in which Bud climbed to the highest possible perch in my bedroom, then leaped in a kamikaze attack, landing square on my stomach so I was violently torn from my dreams and folded up like a suitcase all at once.

I remember my heart pounding as my little lunatic kitten vanished back into the shadows, trilling with delight and waiting for my breathing to slow again before launching another attack.

It went like that for weeks, maybe more, and I lost a lot of sleep but eventually his schedule synced with mine, I learned to tire him out with late night play time, and our nights became peaceful. Buddy began draping himself over me or burrowing into my side, which he still does all these years later.

If the sole measurement is quality of sleep, who can say what the final balance is? How do you measure the penalty of perhaps waking up more frequently, but falling asleep faster? Can you quantify the benefit of falling asleep to the soothing buzz of a cat purring next to you?

YMMV, but for me Bud is a calming presence. Or has been, since he stopped finding it amusing to attack me all night. There’s also a final benefit that has nothing to do with sleep quality: Letting your feline friend snooze with you helps strengthen your bond, and solidifies their status as a true member of the family.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Bud wants to nap and needs his human mattress…

Woman Sets Up Camera, Paranormal Activity Style, To Film Her Kitten Body-Slamming Her In Her Sleep

Kittens: cute and utterly ruthless.

I have to admit, as cute as Buddy was as a kitten, I don’t miss the “war on sleep” phase.

A woman who adopted a kitten set up a camera to film what happens while she sleeps, like the main characters of the surprisingly scary 2007 film Paranormal Activity, except instead of doors opening and slamming shut by themselves, TVs turning on randomly and other freaky ghost stuff, she got footage of her new kitty gleefully waking her, mostly by belly-flopping on her snoozing human:

@jenna_nicole29

bet y’all can’t guess why i’m sleeping on the floor #catsoftiktok #psycho #fyp #fail #cat

♬ original sound – Jenna

I know the experience all too well, and I’d imagine most people who have had a kitten know it too.

Buddy was absolutely ruthless as a baby! He’d scurry into a corner or hide under my desk, wait until I was snoring or just on the cusp of sleep, then climb up and screech the kitten equivalent of “Geronimo!” as he kamikaze’d himself onto my stomach.

Not a fun way to wake up. At all.

Bud would celebrate with delighted trilling, then pad back into the shadows to wait for his next opportunity. Oftentimes I’d hear squeaky little kitten chirps and imagine him laughing as he planned his next attack. He had entirely too much fun torturing me at night.

But fear not, Jenna, it gets better! I’m happy to report the Budster is much sweeter and more considerate as an adult cat. He still wakes me up, but often not to the level of fully awake, and instead of a cat landing a triple lutz, double axle on my stomach, I’m treated to super-soft fur against my face and the calming vibration of the little dude’s purrs.

It might take the better part of a year, but your kitten will chill out, adjust to your sleep schedule and realize a peaceful snooze is more satisfying than nighty games of Harass the Human.

The feline tendency to sit on your face and screech into your ear if your cat’s hungry or really wants your attention? Unfortunately that never goes away…