Sparta – Pain In The Bud

Daily writing prompt

What is good about having a pet?

For more than two weeks after adopting him, I still didn’t have a name for my cat.

I imagined something badass, something funny, something better than all those boring pet names. But the playful, energetic, bold little kitten in front of me was no Brasidas (my favorite Spartan), Mo (my favorite pitcher) or Timothy Cavendish. (My favorite character from David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas.)

So I kept calling him buddy while I waited for something to come to me, and then it became obvious: He is Buddy.

Original? Nah. But it describes him perfectly, and to me that’s the best part about adopting him, my first-ever pet.

We’re pals. Amigos. Chums. Accomplices. Buddies.

I don’t consider myself his “dad” even though I have parental, protective feelings for him. He’s my buddy who wants to be involved in everything I do, whether it’s helping me greet trick-or-treaters at the door like he did last night, batting a paw at my guitar strings to add his special touch to my recording takes, or just hanging out while I’m reading.

I knew it intuitively, but the best advice I ever got was to always remember your little friend, be it a cat or dog, has his or her own feelings.

There’s a lot of confusion around the word sentience and people often confuse it with the concept of sapience, but there is no doubt about it: mammals like cats and dogs, avian species like corvids (ravens, jays, crows and magpies), and even cephalopods like octopus are sentient.

They think. They feel. They experience emotions like joy, sadness, excitement, anxiety, love, loneliness and more, just as intensely as we do. They may not be able to articulate those feelings in words, but they’re real.

More than half a century’s worth of science has confirmed that fact at every step, and we continue to learn more about animal cognition with every advance in technology that allows us to peer deeper into their minds.

When you treat your pet with respect and keep their feelings in mind, you’ll have a friend for life.

A loyal friend whose love comes without condition.

A friend who won’t lie to you…except maybe when it comes to food. After all, Bud could win an Oscar for his role as a starving cat, even though a single glance at him confirms he’s never missed a meal.

If you’re where I was years ago and considering bringing a pet into your life, ask yourself if you’re ready for a commitment that could last two decades, if you’re ready and motivated to give an animal not just a forever home, but the best life the little one can live.

Remember that kittens and puppies grow up fast, and think about whether you’d rather have a whirlwind of energy who will wreck your sleeping habits for months, or an adult furball who is much more chill. Remember that you will have to do things you don’t like, whether it’s scooping a litter box or bagging poop on a walk. There will be expenses, scares, the occasional puked-on rug.

But the joy you’ll get, and the friendship you’ll have, will make it all worth it.

And if you’re sure, find yourself a buddy at your local shelter. Your life will be better for it.

P.S. If you’re a fool like me, you can also have fun imagining your cat or dog in absurd scenarios based on their personalities.

NEW YORK — Big Buddy and Little Buddy experienced an awkward moment while watching a cat documentary which claimed feline personalities eventually come to resemble the dispositions of their humans.

The human and tabby were sitting on their couch, eating popcorn and laughing at their own farts when Holly Sikes, a cat behaviorist interviewed in the documentary, broke down the way people and their furry pals mirror each other.

“So, for example, if the cat is a lazy, egotistical jerk who’s always coming up with hare-brained schemes, he obviously learned that from someone,” the behaviorist said. “And that someone is the primary caretaker, the one with whom the cat spends most of his or her time.”

The Buddies looked at each other, shrugging.

“I once had a client whose cat, Quintus Lentilus Batiatus, was an absolute lunatic,” Sikes continued in the documentary. “And it turned out the owner was a LARPer who belonged to a group of wannabe Roman legionaries, which explained why little Quintus had declared war on the German family next door, labeling them ‘barbarians and savages who must be civilized under the banner of the Sacred Eagle.’ I’ve heard of cats styling themselves as Mongol conquerors, Spartan warriors and even kings of Joseon.”

Little Buddy stopped chewing, and with a mouth full of popcorn, turned to his Big Buddy.

“I’m, uh, not feeling this documentary, dude,” he said. “Let’s find something else to watch.”

“Agreed,” Big Buddy said.

The behaviorist continued to elaborate as Big Buddy searched for the remote.

“…and delusions of grandeur, particularly when it comes to fantasies about conquering the world, being famous, or even establishing ties with big cats like jaguars and tigers…”

Little Buddy’s voice was urgent.

“Where’s the remote, dude? Come on! Find it!”

“I’m trying! Where the heck is it?”

“…and we find that in cases where human and feline are closely bonded, they serve as enablers, with each convincing the other that their schemes are brilliant even when they’re gobsmackingly inane…”

Big Buddy grunted triumphantly.

“Found it!” he said.

Human and cat breathed a sigh of relief as the stream stopped.

“So what do you wanna watch next, Bud?” Big Buddy asked.

Little Buddy sat up and stretched.

“Actually, I was thinking of taking another nap and then working on my brilliant plan to intercept catnip shipments bound for pet stores.”

Big Buddy whistled.

“That is a brilliant plan, little guy,” he said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Little Buddy said proudly.

“Good call on the nap too. I’ll set my alarm for 90 minutes. Gotta get that beauty sleep…”

As of press time, the Buddies had settled on a scheme to intercept catnip and turkey bound for pet stores, which they both agreed was brilliantly conceived and guaranteed to work.