Another Mary Said
Floof at Work
Floof at Work (floofinition) – An Australian floof band formed in 1979 and active until 1986.
In use: “Floof at Work had hits in Australia and New Zealand but soon, songs like “What Can I Eat Now?” soon brought them global fame.”
Monday’s Theme Music
I had to venture out to a local store for a few things we deemed critical. As I shopped, maintaining a social distance (six feet) from others, their apparent (and maybe willful) ignorance annoyed me. The chorus of an old The Police (remember them?) song jumped into full-loop mode in my mental stream.
Don’t stand, don’t stand so
Don’t stand so close to me
Don’t stand, don’t stand so
Don’t stand so close to me
(You prob’ly knew that was comin’, dinja?)
Yes, those lyrics from “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” (why, it’s right there in the title) from 1980 are perfect for when you’re out and others are nearby in the age of coro. Beyond that, I enjoy this song about an older male teacher and his young female student. Nice beat.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Walkin’ round the southern hills of our town, thinking through writing, drifting through music and news, I considered songs that felt right for the time. They came up mostly from superficial connections. Like, “Baba O’Riley” (aka “Teenage Wasteland”) (1971) by the Who sprang into the music stream because I was up in the fields.
But then, the social distancing – hunker down – quarantine – self-isolation aspect whispered at me about songs about people knocking at the door. With those songs, I thought of Rod Stewart with “Legs” (“Who’s that knocking on the door? It’s gotta be quarter to four.”) Then came Men at Work with “Who Can It Be Now?”. Finally, my stream settled on an oldie (yes, even older than the cited songs).
Several performers have done “I Hear You Knockin'” but I went with the one I’m most familiar with through poprock radio, the one by Dave Edmunds, which was released in 1970. Other than the lyrics about hearing someone knocking at the door, and telling them they can’t come in, this blues song about being left alone has little to do with our coro sit. But still, it’s a good song.
Enjoy.
The Floof Second Rule
The Floof Second Rule (floofinition) – An animal’s right to take something if it’s not in use or looked at for one second (+/- .5 second margin of error).
In use: “Using the floof second rule, the cat took a piece of lunch meat, hopped off the table, and left.”
Victory Is Coming
The birds were plentiful and noisy. Several noticed, “Hey, where are the humans?”
It seemed true, the birds agreed. They didn’t see as many humans as usual. Odd, up here in the northern latitudes, where winter was rolling over into spring. That’s when the humans usually became more active.
Word went from bird to bird, flock to flock, pecking for confirmation: were less humans out? Fewer cars, trucks, and motorcycles? Were all noticing this or was it a local anomaly?
“Yes.” Verification flew through the flocks. Except for a few pockets, less humans were present outdoors. The birds were winning the war.
Orders were issued. “Increase your efforts. Be vigilant. Keep shitting on them, shit on every human you see. Our strategy s working. Victory is coming.”
A CBD Update
I have cats.
That’s my human POV. The cats put it, I have a human. The cats say, I make demands, play with things (because I’m booored), and show affection (sometimes offering my human a gift), and in return, the humans feed, shelter, protect, care for me, and give me a body to sleep on so I don’t get cold. As a human, I say, aren’t they sweet?
The cats, smugly, nod, their eyes hooded: yes, we know.
Some of my little felines have issues. After inquiries and research, I decided to attempt a CBD course. The inquiries didn’t do a lot to reassure me about what was going to happen; neither did the research. They’re cats; they’re as individual as humans and offer less insights (and more cryptic insights) into how they’re feeling. Eventually, I purchased Sun God CBD Heka Pet Oil. It’s available locally. Friends swear by it.
Boo’s stress and anxiety drives my feline CBD attempts. Boo, an older cat with a mysterious history, huffs, hisses, panics, and swats at everything. You never know what’ll set him off. His back fur by his rear has matted. Always a large cat (and, we suspect, arthritic), he can’t groom that area. During the consecutive years of wildfire and smoke-filled air, all the cats (except young, short-haired Papi) (aka Meep) developed matting. With everyone except Boo, we bought sprays and used those in conjunction with scissors, brushes, and combs to remove their mats and restore their gloss.
Can’t do it with Boo. He ducks hands, although he’s come to tolerate our petting and stoking. (But beware of going close to his matted fur!) Hairbrushes? No! Hiss, snap, swat, run away, run away, run away, run away. Scissors?
I dare you.
His mats are so bad, they’re like a hard hump on his back (for which we cruelly call him Humpback). You know it has to be bothering him. We have great ideas about what’s going on with his skin underneath. We’ve done research.
We’d already tried other things to calm him. We considered hiring groomers to come to the house, but until Boo calms more, we think that option is out. We have managed to groom some of it down, but not the worse, and without constant grooming, it begins expanding. Something must be done. Hence the CBD.
Knowing Boo’s condition, I knew it would take some time for me to get any quantities into him. The oil smells unusual. Boo doesn’t do unusual.
At the same time, I was trying it on two of the others: Pepper (the neighbor’s elderly cat, who treats our place as her home), and Tucker. Tucker suffers from autoimmune and inflammatory issues. Somewhere older than ten years old, he’s aging, too. He apparently lived a rough street life before reaching our door. Again, he’s a cat without a past (that we know).
I added CBD to the food. Boo ran away. Pepper ate it up, curled up, and went to sleep. Tucker ate some and became…mellow.
Papi did, too. Yeah, he ingested a little with food. When I visited with him afterward, I swear he acted stoned, smiling at me like he was going to say, “You know, you’re so cool. I love you, man.”
The next day, encouraged by the small amounts and reactions, I squirted a few drops directly into Pepper and Tucker’s mouths. Pepper took it in stride; ate, went away, and came back stunningly invigorated. Success. Wow.
Tucker went to sleep. Deep, deeep, deeep sleep. It was so deep and prolonged, I wondered, what the hell have I done to my cat?
Then, after twelve hours of that, he hunted me down in bed in his usual Tucker style, and all seemed fine.
Meanwhile, I bought special food for Boo. He’s partial to things with sauces, so I purchased a more expensive offering, with skipjack tuna and chicken in a delicate broth (such marketing hype, right?). Into it I dropped two drops of CBD.
Boo lapped it up. Then he went outside, found sunshine, and went to sleep, deep, deeep, deeep sleep, for hours and hours. This was in parallel to Tucker’s deep sleep. Tucker was inside sleeping; Boo was in the grass in the back yard. Usually when I open the back door, each looks up from their sleep to see what’s going on. Usually, too, Boo trots over to me.
This time, nothing. From either.
Holy crap, I’d killed the cats.
I checked both for signs of life. They stirred, like, what? But it wasn’t their usual behavior.
After a day of that deep sleeping, I worried about it. I decided not to give any cat CBD to see what happens.
You know what? All are normal, almost back to their pre-CBD form, except that I swear that all seem more relaxed. Pepper continues to be sprier.
At this point in my non-scientific testing, I consider the CBD worthwhile. I have another can of special food for Boo. I plan to administer the CBD to him in it this week. Then we’ll attempt to groom him. Just a little, mind you.
Then we’ll really see if it’s worthwhile.
The Floof Fighters
The Floof Fighters (floofinition) – Cat and dog musical rock band formed in the Floofattle area in 1994.
In use: “Led by Floof Grohl, with songs like, “Learning to Bite”, the Floof Fighters have gone from regional wonder to international success.”
Thundering In
They thundered in on loud, glittering machines (Harley motorcyles), ostentatious in their efforts to be cool and tough, shattering me with their numbers and volume.
It was the muses, awakened, returned, and energetic.
Six thirty AM, I’d just finished reviewing my dreams and wasn’t ready to get out of bed. I’d stayed up late watching “Ozark” on Netflix. A cat (Tucker, black and white, long-furred) was nestled against me, warm and purring. Yeah, no need to get up.
I began going through my manuscript in my head. I’d finished reading it. It was okay. Satisfactory.
Yeah, satisfactory and okay weren’t what I was looking for, damn it.
So the muses began riding around, revving their engines and hurling ideas at me. Do this, write this, what about this?
No, that’d be a much different book and not the one that this book is. Ah, but what about doing this? Hmmm…that makes sense. It’s attractive. Appealing.
Time to write (well, edit) like crazy, one more time.
But first, I really need coffee.
Michael Seidel, writer 