Does The Budster Love Me?

“Love is a strong word, human. I prefer ‘tolerate.’ On days when you anticipate my snack cravings before I verbalize them, you could maybe say I’m fond of you.”

Newsweek has an interesting interview with a cat behaviorist on the subject of whether cats love their humans.

Chantal Howard, a certified cat trainer with Feline Focus Training in Ottawa, told the magazine there are nine primary behaviors that indicate — or confirm — a house tiger loves his or her person. Most of these won’t be new to PITB readers, who are of course among the most cat-savvy people out there and have magnificent taste in cat blogs, but it’s still a handy way to ascertain how your feline overlord feels about you.

So how does Buddy do according to this checklist? Let’s see:

Headbutting: ✅ His Lordship is quite fond of headbutting me and favors me with dozens of headbutts throughout the day, ensuring his pheromones remain on me. You know, in case some other cat somehow comes wandering in and there’s a dispute about which furball owns me.
Kneading: ✅ Considering the fact that I’ve had to toss quite a few t-shirts because of claw rips, I’d say that’s a yes. At least he doesn’t knead my face anymore, as he liked to do when he was a kitten and would take his perch on my shoulder, nuzzle up to my neck and make biscuits against my beard.
Purring: ✅ Nine times out of 10, Buddy’s purr is inaudible, but it’s there. It’s a bit odd that such a talkative, loud cat barely makes a buzz. He likes to lay on my chest and purr up a storm while I rub his head and tell him he’s got admirers all over the world.
Chirping: ✅ Yes! In fact, chirps and trills make up a significant part of the Buddinese language. While meows can be positive, negative or demanding (“I can see the bottom of my bowl! This is an outrage, human!”), trills and chirps are always happy sounds.
Nipping: ✅ Unfortunately, yes.
Licking: ✅ He grooms my hair and my beard, and when I shave he licks my face, which is pretty gross.
Bringing Gifts: ❌ Negative. Then again, what kind of gifts can he bring me when he’s an indoor cat and doesn’t fully understand the concept of hunting?
Exposing Belly: ❌ Does he expose his belly? Yes. Does he feel comfortable enough to snooze in my lap with his belly exposed? Of course. Does he want me to give him belly rubs? No, he emphatically does not. The primordial pouch is not to be touched!
Tail Position: ✅ One of the most awesome things is the fact that Bud’s tail goes immediately into happy mode when I say “Hi, Bud!”, when I hold my hand out for a headbutt, and when I talk to him in general. His tail quivers with excitement when we play with the laser pointer or his favorite toy, and when he catches the first whiff of catnip.

So that’s 7 of 9, or 7 of 8 if we count gifts as N/A due to Bud’s hilarious ineptitude when it comes to even grasping the concept of hunting.

Bud has been known to throw up from excitement when I return from vacation, he often naps by the door when I go out, he talks to me constantly, and he’s rarely more than three or four feet away from me at any given time. All those things, plus our strong bond, have proven to me that he does love me, but it’s also nice to confirm it with a behaviorist’s criteria.

How does your cat perform on the checklist? Don’t forget to share your results in the comments.

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
“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

Dear Buddy: What’s a cat got to do to get some decent sleep?!

Without a good 16 hours of sleep I’m a zombie!

Dear Buddy,

You’ve gotta help me out, hermano. I’ve got a real crisis on my paws here.

I can’t get any decent sleep.

I own a pair of humans who decided a noisy neighborhood was a good spot to live. Buddy, you wouldn’t believe the racket around here: Blaring car horns, subwoofers that rattle the windows, construction a few houses away, infernal dogs barking.

The neighbor kids next door are always playing outside at ungodly hours, like during my 1 pm post-lunch siesta, my 3:30 pm nap and my post-dinner snooze. I can’t even get in a few hours before it’s bedtime and I hop under the covers with my humans.

Buddy, I haven’t had a decent 16-hour day’s sleep in ages. What do I do!?

Dead Tired in Detroit

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Dear Dead Tired in Detroit,

Ugh, that sounds awful! I get cranky if I don’t get my usual 16 to 18 hours in, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through.

This is gonna be tough, Detroit. I can’t help you with the construction or the cars, but we can get those kids and dogs sorted.

Deal with the neighbor brats the old school way by marking your territory. Poop in their yard and garden. Spray the side of their house. Scratch all the trees as high as you can so they think a huge tiger is on the loose. Let them know this is YOUR realm, and if the brats want to play they can sit inside and play X Boxes. (Where are these boxes? I have never seen them.)

The dogs are a little easier. Approach them carefully. When they bark, you say:

“Wow, I’ve never met a dog who doesn’t like bacon!”

They’re gonna get that stupid look on their faces, the one where their tongues hang out and their eyes go blank.

“What do you mean?” they’ll ask.

Here’s where you butter them up.

“The Bacon Faerie!” you’ll say matter-of-factly. “She leaves slices of thick, crispy bacon for good boys who don’t bark. But you already knew that, because you’re a smart dog!”

Try not to speak too fast and don’t call them stupid. Just wait for them to slobber while thinking about that delicious bacon, and your job is done.

“Yes, I…uh, I forgot about the Bacon Faerie,” the dumb dog will say.

Spread the rumor to a few other pups and you’ve got a quiet neighborhood with no barking. Steal some bacon once in a while and zoom around the neighborhood tossing slices into yards like a paperboy to keep the dumb dogs from wising up.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s been an hour since my last nap and my favorite spot on the couch is calling me.

Buddy

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Sure, the Bacon Faerie may not exist, but dogs don’t have to know that!