Eight years ago, a two-pound kitten named Buddy adopted us. He was on his own for the first 12 weeks of his life, and the memory of his feral days resurface whenever we go to the vet clinic. I suggested falconer’s gloves to our veterinarian, who laughed and said “This ain’t my first cat rodeo” before tackling my tiny wild beast. That vet deserves a medal or at least a lifetime supply of Betadine and Band-Aids.
In the past few years, Buddy’s real-life adventures have rivaled those of even the most daring fictional kitty. He’s been cornered by predators and captured by brambles and the resulting rescues inevitably required ladders, clippers, brave volunteers, and a whole lot of swearing. (By humans, that is. No idea what Buddy was saying, although it’s safe to assume it might have been “Get me out of here!”) He’s broken or dislocated more bones than I can name and now sports a non-retractable razor-sharp claw. And, despite being uncoordinated to the point of being unable to climb trees–not a bad thing, in my opinion–he’s managed nonetheless to scramble over a tall fence more than a few times, only to discover he couldn’t get back over the way he came. Once, he landed in a yard owned by a pit bull. (To be fair, their meeting was entirely Buddy’s fault and the dog wisely retreated before the interloper attacked.) Is it any wonder we call him Buddy The Wonder Cat?
He watches Westminster dog show every year, and he’s not shy about announcing his favorite (last year, it was the Great Pyrenees). We no longer let him watch any shows with lions, though, after he imitated their habit of dragging off their kill. In Buddy’s world, he drags off whatever he decides to claim as his own, and good luck finding his booty once he stashes it. To date, that includes the electrician’s pliers, the plumber’s wrench, a house guest’s scarf, the dog’s leash, and every string he can find. The strings are the only things that routinely turn up–in his food dish and water bowls.
Since Sasha joined the household, he’s decided he likes having a dog of his own. He joins her for training sessions and scent games and is apt to “help” her when she loses the trail or overlooks something I’ve hidden. He watches over her while she eats and keeps her company whenever she’s crated. When she’s out of the house without him, he paces until she returns and he can see for himself that she’s okay.
You’ll meet Buddy The Wonder Cat’s fictional self in Dangerous Deeds (book #2 of the Waterside Kennels mystery series). While that’s making it way through the book pipeline, here’s a slideshow featuring the many faces of the kitty who came to stay.
I love that he’s a spunky little guy, and that he loves (on his own terms) Sasha
Spunky is a good way to describe him!
We have one of those as well. Her official name is Snuggles but she answers to Demon Spawn as well. So far she’s only fallen out of one tree but her love of heights is going to get her in more trouble eventually as there is a legitimate reason her name isn’t Grace. The neighbors are not her biggest fans since she keeps jumping their Chihuahua mix when they happen to both be out at the same time. All in all, I wouldn’t trade her for the world most of the time. She keeps me on my toes and makes me laugh enough that the rough days are worth it.
Deidrah, thanks for your comment. I love the line “…there is a legitimate reason her name isn’t Grace.”
And I agree–laughter wins out every time!
Wonderful post! Over the years, I’ve come to love Buddy the Wondercat through your posts and photos!
He’s a hoot, isn’t he?
He does have quite a few endearing traits, and everyone who comes to the house loves him. I’ve had to warn them to keep items off the floor or the bathroom vanity, as he’s apt to claim them for his own.
He’s a very handsome kitty!
I agree! He’s grown into a lovely cat.