The Rock

“Follow me.” She took the movers into the backyard. It’d been a last minute decision but was appropriate.

A foot taller than her, they followed her out into the immaculate backyard. Winter had drained its color and autumn had jerked the leaves from the trees but a sense of comfort embraced her as she wrapped her sweater around her shoulders, glanced up at the milky sun, and limped across the grass.

A innocuous rock about a foot high and a foot wide rested in one corner in sunshine by a patch of dirt. She pointed at it. “This rock. I want this rock to go, too.”

The movers, without exchanging looks, said, “Yes, ma’am.” The three encircled the rock and studied it. She said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Turning, she strode back into the house, casting eyes over the cottage. She and her husband had bought it twenty-one years before, ten years after they’d retired, coming up here for a more relaxed life. Then came the cat, a tiny tabby mewing on her porch as rain poured outside. The husband had died later that year. The cat, though, had lasted for twenty-one. The rock had been the cat’s favorite sitting place in the back. Sunshine always found the rock, and Pebble, named for her petite size, always found the rock.

She could leave the house – had to, really, because small as it was, it was too much for her  now – but she wouldn’t leave the rock. The cat was gone, but she’d always have the rock. And who knows? Maybe in the new place, she’d put the rock on the tiny balcony and perhaps find a new feline companion.

Or maybe it’d find her, as Pebble had.

It would be nice to have another rock in her life.

NOTE: Someone posted a photo of a mover carrying a large, unpretentious rock into an apartment. Others wondered why someone was moving a rock into an apartment.

So did I.


Husfloofdry (floofinition) – The care and watch over animals.

In use: “According to the Good Floofkeeping Journal, good husfloofdry mandates that the animals have fresh food and water, safety and shelter, companionship, and care when they’re sick or injured.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Hey, the twenties are almost upon us. This hasn’t gone unnoticed. Almost all of the NYE parties in our town have been inspired to throw a roaring twenties party.

My wife and I are not impressed that they’re paying homage to a decade that ended in the Great Depression. My parents weren’t yet born; her parents, who are deceased, were born in that decade. Nothing about it inspires me to want to party.

No, I’m a child of the rock era. For my theme music for 2019, I’m going with a Prince classic, “1999”, from, um, 1982.

Join my party, or pop up a song that you would like to carry you into a new year and decade. Happy New Year!

I was dreamin’ when I wrote this
So sue me if I go 2 fast
But life is just a party, and parties weren’t meant 2 last
War is all around us, my mind says prepare 2 fight
So if I gotta die I’m gonna listen 2 my body tonight

h/t to, cuz cutting and pasting is easier.



Barrafloofa (floofinition) – Animal known for its fearsome appearance and ferocious behaviour.

In use: “Normally friendly as a happy puppy, raised voices always summoned Herc’s inner barrafloofa. The family quickly learned not to do that, or argue, around the big dog, because Herc the barrafloofa wasn’t going to tolerate it.”


Geoflooftry (floofinition) – Branch of floofmatics that deals with the measurement, properties, and relationships of points, lines, angles, surfaces, and solids.

In use: “Most animals (but especially housepets) have a poor sense of geoflooftry, believing that they can fit, wedge, or shape themselves into any space, even if its one tenth of their size.”


Solipfloofsism (floofinition) – A theory holding that an animal can know nothing but its own modifications and that it is the only existent creature.

In use: “It was a constant war with the cat to keep it off of the kitchen counters, but the feline’s solipfloofsism didn’t allow her to accept that others could control her. It wasn’t possible.”

Water Dream

It was a water dream featuring Dad.

He and I lived in a house together. I was a teenager. Our house was pleasant and modern, with water features in the backyard.

We were going about the early morning with him talking to me about something as we were in the backyard. Hearing running water, I traced the source to a pipe sticking out of the house’s side beside the faucet. I’d never seen that on a house.

Water started flowing from it. I put my hand under it; it was was warm. I said, “Dad, I think something is wrong. There’s warm water coming out of this pipe.”

Dad said, “Yeah, we’d better check it out.” Then he went on about how he needed to go out and get something to eat. When he talked about the food, his choices appalled me. He was saying something about getting about a dozen sliders and I ended up asking him to get me a couple.

“But what about the water?” I asked.

“You take care of that for me,” he said.

I went into the house. Shock struck. Water was seeping out of everywhere. The kitchen floor was swollen with a huge lump in the middle. Horror seizing me, I thought, “This water is pent up and is going to burst, where are the valves, I need to shut the water off,” and ran to find the valves.

Dad returned (I don’t think he’d actually left but had been in another part of the house). I showed him the lump and leaks. I told him that I’d shut the water off. He said, “We’d better do something about that. Find someone to call.”

Ready for the pipes to burst, I dug out the phone book to call a plumber.

The dream ended.

Editing note: No, I didn’t get up and go to the bathroom.

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