As a confirmed dog lover, I have previously confessed to harboring cats in my foolish youth. I don’t particularly recall if they responded to their formal names, but they responded instantly to their nickname. It was not a nickname that a human could say, but it was apparently articulated perfectly by the electric can opener, which they worshiped as a god and came running when it called to them.
Maybe if you learned your kids/grandkid’s names they’d listen to you better. 
Officially they’re “Hermes” and “Hestia” (Our daughter, like myself, had a “thing” for Greek myth). I often call them “the beasts”. When I pet her, I’ll call Hestia “kitten-cat”. My wife calls Hermes “Baby Boy”, even though he’s now 17. (I just call him “Hermes”)
Freddie Mercury (Merc, Mr. Cat) has been earning the nickname lately of Stinky Butt for his refusal to bury his poops.
Sally Forth, besides Princess, is also Little Girl, Sweetie or Saldamit, depending on the moment.