Category: Cat

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Spectralable.

Hi there. Today is Monday, April 1, 2024. Watch out for those tricks.

The sun isn’t doing any tricks. Sipping coffee in the living room, I watched through the Eastern windows as the sun rose and shifted. A hearty light bloomed, taking the 38 degree F’s cold off a little. By degrees, the sun pulled our temperatures higher. We’re up to 47 F now. Nothing but blue from horizon to horizon. 69 F is possible, they say.

Guess who is happy that the sun is full and strong today? If you said me, you’re right. But if you said that the sun’s appearance gladden the floofs, you’re also right. Tucker and Papi are on the back patio appreciating the sun, washing on the cement, prancing through the grass, or sitting, gazing, listening, sniffing the air.

Back in 1970, Led Zeppelin released the song playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark floundering). The Neurons ordered up “Celebration Day” today. This song seems to me like the vocalist as a narrator is happy about the day while he also spills a tale about a woman is becoming lost and confused about what’s going on.

Fer instance, the song begins, “Her face is cracked from smiling, all the fears that she’s been hiding, and it seems that pretty soon, everybody’s gonna know.” Pretty damn bleak, isn’t it?

But the chorus is, “My, my, my, I’m so happy, I’m gonna join the band. We gonna dance and sing in celebration. We are in the promised land.”

So my interpretation is that something happens, happened, or is happening which brings despair to some as others celebrate. It’s true in life and really visible in sports, awards, and politics.

Hope you can keep positive and strong, lean forward against the winds of resistance, and Vote Blue. I’m trying to do the same. Here’s the throwback music. Cheers

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Floofyophile

Floofyophile (floofinition) – An animal lover. Origins: Floofish, 1820s, in France.

“In use: “Born into a family of floofyophiles, it was no surprise that Riley became a floofyophile at a young age, but her industry to save animals by the time she was ten years old was newsworthy.”

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood:

Rain claims the sky again. May not stay. Bursts break out of clouds, and then the sun breaks show with a flash of light. Brisk winds burst through the valley, shaking the trees and sending shivers through my knees, before rain kisses us again.

This is spring. This is Friday, March 29, 2024. It’s 50 F and several y’s are present — sunny-cloudy-rainy-windy-chilly. Think we’re within 2, 3 degrees of the thermometer’s upper level for this March day. Snow comes and leaves on the northern and eastern peaks over the last three days. How’s the weather in your life zone?

First, a floof update. Tucker continues a trouble-free recovery. I knocked off the opiates. Just thought he was being over medicated. He’s eating, sleeping, and moving well. I make him a cup of grain-free kibble softened with hot water, and he dives into a bowl like an osprey coming down from the sky on a hunt. After eating today, he gently washed his face and paws before tucking back into nap position. Fingers crossed that this all continues.

The Neurons loaded “Alone” by Heart into the morning mental music stream (Trademark plummeting). The song was invited into the MMMS by the line, “No answer on the telephone.”

I’d called a friend. No answer. No voice mail or answering machine. Seems ominous.

I talked to the cats about it (they were the only ones around). They agreed with me, no answer on a telephone call is surreal in this era. Some mechanized or e-response is typical if a live voice isn’t heard. But to hear the ringing continue…strange. I called again to ensure I had the number correct. I let it ring until twenty rings had filled the air. Twenty rings, an absurd amount, before giving up.

The song commenced in the MMMS a few seconds after I relayed my experience to the floofies. We — me and The Neurons — went from there. Personally, I always enjoyed the hard rock ballad. Then again, I seem drawn to hard rock ballads. Could be that they appeal to my romantic side, or the solitude inculcated by my work and travel draws me to that sort of music.

Persist to be positive and strong, lean forward toward progress and a better future, and Vote Blue. Coffee has caffeinated my brain cells, so I’m good to go. Here’s the music. Oh, wait, it’s sunny again, and the wind has become a friendly zephyr. For now.

Now it’s cloudy. Wind is beating the coffee shop umbrella. Rain veils are crossing the mountains.

Cheers

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Cryptofloofency

Cryptofloofency (floofinition) – Mostly related to pets, animal activities, behaviors, and sounds which seem unique, mysterious, or unusual to other, most especially people who live with the animals. Origins: 1983, United States.

In Use: “One huge learning curve for people extending hospitality to floofs is cryptofloofency, strange things the fur critters like to do, such as galloping through rooms, sleeping in sinks, singing at midnight, opening doors, and going nuts over squirrels and other critters seen in their domain.”

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Overlapping Dreams

Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.

First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.

Me: I did? What is it?

“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?

“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”

This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.

“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”

The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.

I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.

I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.

Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.

I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”

“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”

I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”

I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”

I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.

Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.

I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.

Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”

Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”

I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”

“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”

Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”

But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.

Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”

Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: subjective

Hi world. Began this Wezday, March 27, 2024, with a recap of weird dreams.

The ‘Wezday’ thing came from this cute little girl visiting the coffee shop today. Looked like she was two. Dressed in yellow, with pink plastic boots with pictures on them. She was in line with her group a few yards away. I don’t know what was being discussed by the adults but she suddenly announced in a huge stage voice, “I know tomorrow is Wezday. Tomorrow is Wezday. I know.”

That bought a laugh from many of us.

It’s rainy today, 50 F, with an expected high a few degrees north of 50. Blue sky and sunshine are both shying away from our valley for the moment. They might emerge to show they exist later.

Left the house at 7 AM to take Tucker in for his surgery. Arrived there ten minutes early. He was not pleased. He’d been cut off from eating last night at 10 PM. I fed him the best that I could because I know what was coming.

Today at 6 AM, he went to where his kibble usually resides. When he discovered it wasn’t there, he began grumbling. It was soon as loud as approaching thunder, if the thunder had a meow sound embedded it. I get him back between three and five this afternoon. My fingers are crossed, etc, that all goes well. I have a good feeling about it, but these things can go awry fast.

So after my dream recap, I was talking to myself, Tucker, and Papi. Papi wasn’t going to be fed until after I left. My wife would give him food. I wasn’t eating until I came back from dropping off Tucker. Just a sympathy thing; wasn’t fair for me to eat if he couldn’t.

Anyway, while having this conversation, I might have employed the expression, “I’m not crazy.” Within a short while, The Neurons had Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty singing, “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell,” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark evaporating). The 2003 song, “Unwell”, sat well in my pscyhe as music for today. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. Is that too much to ask? Ask me again after my coffee, okay?

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The Cats

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.

Tucker resumed cleaning.

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Ventfloofloquism

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.”

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Confloofdiction

Confloofdiction (floofinition) An expectation and counter-expectation about what an animal will do, which are simultaneously correct and wrong. Origins: Anglo-Floof and Latin, first noted use in 14th century.

In Use: “Feline confloofdictions such as biting the hand which feeds them and then cuddling with the person they bit is one large reasons cats seem like floofnigmas.”

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

I hate taking my floofs to the vet. I recognized that today. I’d put off taking Tucker for a long time, probably to his detriment.

Veterinary offices and animal hospitals harbor bad memories. Cats hit by a car and dying in a room, waiting for treatment. Feline fur friends taken in to see what’s going on to learn they have cancer. Nothing to be done. Four friends over seven years, three spread over a four-year period, nine altogether in my lifetime.

I know. Shame on me. I should be stronger. A better human for them. Accept that death, injuries, and pain are part of life.

I do understand. Doesn’t appease my feelings of loss at their demise. It’s not all ’bout me, though. It’s about what my little friends ended up enduring, even before their illness was diagnosed. Vets always validated that they’re suffering.

We took Tucker back today. Check on his thyroid. Those numbers look good now. Other numbers don’t. He has high blood pressure. He’s gained weight, which was good, but his kidney numbers are worrisome.

A prescription was given for the hyperthyroidism. Another for the high blood pressure. Nothing for kidneys – yet. Monitor them for a bit more. See if it’s a side effect of meds or situation. Meanwhile, we continue his pain meds and his thyroid meds. Twice a day, twelve hours apart.

He goes in for surgery on Wednesday. Dealing with refractory stomatitis gingivitis. All his teeth are to be removed. Well, all which remain. Many of his teeth are already gone.

All this came to mind because my wife interpreted some comments made by the vet at Tucker’s last appointment as dismissive of us as pet mates. I didn’t see it myself. I saw it as being weak on my part. A coward, really.

Now, fingers crossed that all goes well for my black and white buddy. He remains upbeat and loving.

I hope I do right by him.

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