Talking about my cat Buddy

His name is Buddy. At least that is what I have called him the two plus years he has been in my possession. I got him when he was 3 years old so I am sure he had another name before that, but I never bothered to ask what it was I just always called him Buddy. He seems to respond to that so it’s fine by me. 

I got Buddy in 2020. It was days after my other cat was found dead on the side of the road. Her name was Chloe. She was a rescue from the animal shelter. I loved her tremendously. She was my baby. When I adopted Buddy I was already heartbroken from losing Chloe so he was mostly a replacement. 

He wasn’t on board with his new home right away. He got out early on and ran back to his previous owner without hesitation. I had to entice him to come home and from there fortify the house to keep him from getting outside again. 

After a few days he became comfortable enough with me to sleep in my bed. Once he found he could trust me he started sleeping on my back, then the back of my legs. By that time he realized he and I were family.

Buddy is the only living being that has watched me transition from male to female from day one. He was there when I first started taking HRT and he is still by my side to this day. He is more than my child, my fur baby, he is my best friend. I love and adore this cat more than I can put into words. 

Our bonding was a slow process. It started with me giving him hugs and cuddles from time to time when he would allow it. After a while I would give him canned treats and he would eventually learn I was his friend. Once I built his trust he got to where he would sleep comfortably on my couch with his belly up to signify to me he trusted me. After earning his trust I made it a point to respect his wishes as much as possible. I have worked hard to keep our relationship one of mutual respect. 

Having a cat in my life has proven to be quite helpful in handling anxiety. He is more than a companion. He helps me battle depression too. He gives me someone to take care of. He relies on me, depends on me to keep him taken care of. I have to make sure I don’t violate that trust by ensuring I meet all of his kitty needs as best as I can. 

I really love my cat. He sleeps in my bed. He lays on my shoulders. He lets me rub his belly. He cries whenever I leave the house and is happy when I return. Sure he has some boundary issues whereas he likes to watch me go to the bathroom a little too closely but I think other than that he is a pretty good cat. I just wanted to write a little something about the little guy that captured my heart. Afterall he’s kind of a big deal to me.

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Stephanie Bri

A transgender writer who also does podcasts and videos. If you like my writing please consider helping me survive. You can support me directly by giving money to my paypal: If you prefer CashApp my handle is @Stephaniebri22. Also feel free to donate to my Patreon. I know it's largely podcast-centric but every little bit helps. Find it by going to, Thank you.