We returned from the vet office yesterday. Tucker was released from his carrier. He trotted free and then turned back. At the carrier again, he insistently sniffed its door. A few steps away were taken and then he sat down and commenced a serious washing session.
Papi approached. Tucker paused his washing. The two cats tentatively touched noses, Papi’s pink on Tucker’s black.
Floof note: these two felines never touch noses.
Papi seemed to be verifying, you went to that place? And Tucker seemed to be replying, too right.
My sympathy, Papi answered, moving backward. He wandered toward the kibble bowls.
I used to be on Twitter. Left it when the infantile X man took over. Others convinced me to return.
I get new followers every day. Most are women. They put up photos of attractive women. They usually have hundreds to thousands of followers.
And they have zero to few posts.
I don’t follow them back. I think they’re bots. Lures for something going on, maybe.
A few reached out to me via X’s messaging system after they follow me. Their missives typically include, “Nice to get in touch with you. I see that you are also paying attention to some political matters. What do you think of the current political situation?” They almost always use similar words.
As if it’s not enough that we need to worry about bears, cougars, other animals, and motor vehicles, someone out there in our town is shooting pets.Dogs so far, as two dogs have been found dead, a bullet through their heads. But it could be cats; many are reported missing. Whether it’s cats or dogs, it’s sickening and evil. And maybe a gateway to doing darker things? An individual like this is malfunctioning.
The police need to step up and find them. Better, a cougar will hunt them down and take care of business for us. Just sayin’.
Ventfloofloquism(floofinition) An animal’s production of sounds in such a way that locating the true source seems impossible. A creature practicing ventfloofloquism is a ventfloofoquist. Origins: 1775, Flooftin; vent (to speak) + floof (animal) + loquism (location elsewhere).
In Use: “Kelley heard Prism meowing but either the little furball was a ventfloofoquist or he was meowing and then darting off to another place to confuse her. And it was working; she was confused — confused, exasfloofrated, and annoyed.”
March 26, 2024 is a Tuesday. I mention it because it is upon us. Winter and spring heroics are vivdly displayed in a skybleau vivant of blue, gray, and white pieces. Rain was here yesterday and last night. Might it come again today? All signs point to ask again later. It’s 42 F. Sunshine is shimmering in around the clouds, alleviating the chill. 58. That’s what they say our high will be.
When I looked out at the mixed composition of clouds, The Neurons began “Cloud Nine” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark cloudy). I enjoy the 1968 song by The Temptations. It sets up a tempting tableau.
(Cloud 9) [Paul:] You can be what you wanna be. (Cloud 9) [Dennis:] You ain’t got no responsibility. (Cloud 9) [Eddie:] Every man, every man is free. (Cloud 9) [Dennis:] You’re a million miles from reality
The interplay by the singers and the upbeat tempo and optimistic lyrics made it a childhood favorite. Don’t mind it in the morning mental music stream at all.
When I was young, I wondered, “Why cloud nine?” What’s going on with clouds one through eight? Are there higher clouds? Like, number ten?
The first question was answered by a teacher. Sort of. He suggested that “Cloud Nine” was from Dante’s Paradiso. As a twelve-year-old, I’d never heard of it. An elderly neighbor later said it was about angels. In a meteorology class in the Air Force, a sergeant talked about the classifications of clouds, telling us that nine is the highest level of clouds.
While musing about it today, I found a neat little article on udiscovermusic.com covering these things. They also noted that it used to be cloud seven used as a euphoric state.
‘Indeed, improbable as it sounds, as far back as 1896, the first edition of the International Cloud Atlas defined ten types of cloud, of which the cumulonimbus, rising to 6.2 miles, was declared the highest that a cloud could be. In 1960, the Dictionary Of American Slang defined “cloud seven” – not nine – as meaning “in a euphoric state.”’
Despite all this, today’s edition of “Cloud Nine” is by Beach Bunny. It’s a 2020 TikTok hit and no at all like he 1968 beats. I like checking out TikTok to see what our young are tuning into and heard the song on there. I don’t recall when. But dialing up the song today on YouTube reminded me of it existence. So I’m playing it just to spite The Neurons. Yes, it’s petty.
I’ve read Beach Bunny’s song described as a ‘giddy love song’. With a quick beat and a breathless, sometimes abrupt delivery, that seems like an apt description for the quick little number.
Stay strong, be positive, lean forward, and vote blue if you’re’n the U.S. and a citizen, etc. Coffee has been served. French roast. Here’s Beach Bunny. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 