Category: Cat

Don’t Call Me Late For Dinner

Daily writing prompt
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
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Well, I suppose I would compare myself to common, lowly housefloofs. Basically, a floof is an animal, bird, fish, or reptile. A housefloof is then one of those critters living with humans, even if their accomodations aren’t an actual ‘house’.

I say that I’m a housefloof based on my observations of housefloofs residing with me. Those were cats and dogs. My typical housefloofs were creatures of comfort who enjoyed lazing in sunshine, periodically apparently thinking themselves into a doze. This is something which I also do, although I’ll often have a book in my hand and will read myself into a doze. I have seen animals with books, newspapers, and magazines; they enjoy sleeping on them. I’ve yet to witness any housefloof holding a book. I suppose they could be waiting until I’m not around to pick up a book. They do the same with my computer, logging on when I’m not using it, trying to order themselves things from the net. How else can some of the things delivered to our door be explained?

The other thing about housefloofs which I’ve noticed which cements my comparison to one of ’em is their interest in food. They can be sound asleep — or so convincingly pretending to be that I can’t tell they’re awake — when a can, bag, or refrigerator is opened. Then, pop! Their eyes open. They sit up and look up, orienting their senses with precision: “I hear food; there it is.” Some are so adept at this, they react to the sound, leap up, and dash to the food before awakening. I swear, one cat became so good at this whole thing that she picked up our intentions to get something to eat and was there to greet us when we entered the kitchen.

I can honestly say that I’m quite like those housefloofs. I hear the ‘frig open or a bag. Click; hello, what’s that noise? I seek out my other to see, “What are you eating? What do you have?” And like my housefloofs, I’ll sometimes try to surreptitiously seize a share and scurry away.

Sometimes, though, like the housefloofs, I’m disappointed by the result, and sulk away to resume my previous activity.

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Nihfloofism

Nihfloofism (floofinition) – Viewpoint that existence is senseless and useless without an animal’s companionship. Origins: 1812, Floofman Nihfloofsmus, from the Flooftin.

In Use: “Without recognizing it, nihfloofism creeps into their life as they find a floof friend who becomes their best and most consistent, trusted friend.”

In Use: “Marco soon realized that nihfloofism dominated his mother’s existence, and was slowly overtaking his own life after he rescued a kitten he named Toby.”

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Floofogenarian

Floofogenarian (floofinition) – An older person with an animal or animals. Origins: First known use in 1744.

In Use: “The Railroad District was a serious of very square blocks of houses built in the 1930 filled with floofogenarians who shared their homes with cats and dogs.”

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Thirstda’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife was stewing. “Papi changed his routine today. For some reason, he suddenly wanted outside at 4:22, more than two hours before his usual time. I don’t know what’s going on but there he was, scratching on the door, yipping at me because he couldn’t wake you up.”

Between us, I had been awakened but ignored the floofcas Papi was causing because I didn’t want to get up.

I thought of the reasons why Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, changed his hours. May have been a bowel movement thing. Papi prefers to use the outdoors as his toilet, frequenting the area by the fence behind the bushes.

But, him being a cat, perhaps he heard noises outside and felt a need to investigate. Conversely, maybe he realized the noises were coming from inside the house and decided that the outside was safer.

Other ideas are possible. Flooflight savings time may have kicked in. From what I understand from floofotologists, floofs are notoriously independent about FST. Each decides when they’ll switch over — or if they won’t switch at all. Often, though, once one floof changes to FST, other housefloofs do the same. After all they don’t want to miss out by falling an hour behind their floofmate, cause food. They’d rather get up an hour early rather than missing out on food.

I can respect that.

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Wenzda’s Theme Music

Someone must’ve pressed the ‘misty’ button on today’s weather menu. 44 F, cloudy, drizzly, misty, a little sunny, the high will jump to 51, 52 F. Not a bad day, just not particularly inspiring or uplifting, here in Ashlandia.

Fortunately, I experienced uplifting, energizing dreams. Returning from them to here was a rough landing. There, I was supremely happy, eager for the day, embracing the future. Here…everything is knotted with uncertainty, fused with irritation and frustration. I keep telling myself that this too must pass. It presently feels like empty rhetoric.

Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, is doing fab, busying himself around us, scampering about with tail up, sometimes punctuating the moment with his high pitched meep. That sound gifted him his original name of Meep. My SO ordered a change. Didn’t think Meep conveyed enough gravitas. Now she calls him Butter Butt. Like, that has gravitas?

Today’s song is a product of the news. Joey Molland of Badfinger has joined the gig in the sky. Badfinger was an early rock power guitar group. The Beatles fostered them and the group lent their talents to my teenage years. With Molland’s transition, the original group’s lineage has ended. For their part, The Neurons inserted “Baby Blue” from 1972 into the morning mental music stream. The song was written about a woman who showed up and toured with them for a while, Armstrong. It wasn’t a relationship meant to last, though. I went with a recording that’s a little muddy but it shows the most successful lineup during the glory period when they were young, before things began going to crap for them.

Coffee has made another successful landing in my gullet. Let’s rock and roll. Cheers

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Floofbun

Floofbun (floofinition) – Prosifloofic poetry and prose that is about animals or relationships with animals. Origins: Japan, 17th century.

In Use: “One of the earliest recorded floofbuns is ‘The Trail of Shedding Fur’, written in 1784 by an unknown author about their floofs, while a more recent celebrated floofbun is ‘Floof Traveler Floofbun: 1999’ by Ima Katt.”

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Puppycat

Puppycat (floofinition) – Example of a anthifloofria to demonstrate that an animal shares disposition or traits associated with different species. Origins: Ancient Fleek, first noted in writings dated in 12 BC.

In Use: “Introducing Max, Carly said, “This is my puppycat. He’s a dog but he thinks and acts like a cat.” As I bent to greet Max, the puppycat sat and stared at me in an uncanny imitation of a cat’s critical, judging gaze.”

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Sunda’s Theme Music

The numbers for Ashlandia on this Sunda morning of March 2, 2025, are 43 F and 50 F, and the word is showers. Were this a jigsaw puzzle, there Twouldn’t be any blue sky pieces. Everything shimmers with a sheen planted by showers that began yesterday just before midights and stayed constant until an hour ago.

Today’s music, brought to me by The Neurons, is “The Long Run” by the Eagles. This easy-going rocker was let loose on the public in 1979 and quickly ascended to a rock classic staple. First, it was by a very successful country-rock-pop group. Second, the era was heavy with disco and punk influence, making rock of this nature more infrequent. Third, it has mellow hooks. Its straightforward lyrics makes it easy to sing along with. Then, its lyrics about relationships reflect what a lot of us wonder: who’s going to make it? What’s going to happen? We’ll find out in the long run.

Which brings us to the Great Undoing of 2025. What’s going to happen? Will the U.S. survive as a democratic republic? Will the ship be righted? We’ll find out in the long run.

“Saturday Night Live” captured the essence of the PINO Trusk White House, especially in regards to Elon Reeve Musk’s behavior, the meeting with President Zelensky, and the announcement about a new PINO Trusk program, DOUCHE. It’s funny but also stirs anger because SNL captures and conveys the vast impression left by this set of idiots.

Butter Butt, aka Papi the ginger blade, is here for a visit and my coffee is chillin’, so movin’ on. Hope your day works out to your advantage. Time to rock. Cheers

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Phasing Out

Daily writing prompt
Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
View all responses

I thought in depth on this. I retired from the military after twenty years. It was surprisingl easy to say good-bye to it. But I’d been ready to leave it for at least a year. The politics and hypocrisy inherent in the organization disgusted me. Also, leaving wasn’t hard because we rotated every two to four years. Little was permanent, thanks to ‘permanent change of station’ orders. I was deployed to theaters around the world, and the missions changed. While controlling nuclear weapons, war planning, and mitigating the effects of disasters were constant, as were the uniforms, the people were not. We were proficient at ending phases and saying good-bye.

That got me to thinking about how it was really about the people. Leaving IBM after fifteen years was like leaving the military: supremely easy. For the final nine years, I worked from home in southern Oregon. My co-workers were mostly voices on the phone. I’d rarely actually met any of them. My niche was small and I typically dealt with the same ten semi-strangers all week. It was boring, although it could be mentally stimulating, but mostly tedious and empty. Projects would arrive with great fanfare. Then the winnowing would begin. Many projects failed to launch. That was the business.

I left home and family when I was seventeen. Mom’s home was riotous with broken marriages and arguments. When I lived with Dad, he was an absent father. I became adept at being independent.

My wife and I have been together for over fifty years. That’s an ongoing phase. I’ve moved around the nation and around the world. Relatively little remained the same for me. Change was a constant phase.

But we usually had cats. They bonded with me more than my wife, with one exception. These cats became my buddies. At one point, I had six living with me. Another four that belonged to neighbors regularly visited. Now all are gone except one, and he’s getting old.

That’s what phase I guess it’s been hardest to let go of. Each fur friend’s death was so deeply felt that I’m weary of feeling it. My wife said the same and has declared, no more cats. I’m willing to accept that for the moment, but it’s the end of a phase, and a very long good-bye.

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