The Time-Travel Device Dream
I’d noted before that Papi, my ginger-flavored housefloof, picks 6:37 AM to demand — again — to be let out. This is true plus or minus a minute each time. I meantion ‘again’ because he’s usually been in and out three of four times by then.
Now 6:37 probably isn’t early to many. It used to be non-early to me. Military, I worked shifts on and off for fifteen years. Day shifts often started between 6 AM and 7 AM at most locations, depending on our mission, so rising early was regular. My Space Command days, though, I was a superintendent and then the QAF advisor and made my hours. I always chose to be in by 7 AM, and I carried that forward after retirement, when I began work for a corporation.
All that’s dream background. In the dream, I decide to investigate whether it was true that Papi always wanted out at that time, and further, what the orange wonder did when he went out then. So, there I am, peering down on the world, zeroing in on my house, through the roof to my bedroom. Here comes Papi. I check the time and confirm it. He just goes outside, sits and washes, looks around, nothing special. Good, that’s one day but I need to check more.
Someone else there tells me, “You want to use our time machine?” I never see the others but I know that three are present.
I reply, “You have a time machine?”
“Yes, we use to go back and find the truth of what happened so that it can be properly documented.”
Yes, I’m floored. “Sure, I’d like to use that.”
I can see the other’s hands and arms at this point. All are wearing white gloves and a black coat. They give me a small black box, rectangular, maybe four inches by two inches by one. Blue numbers are on its front. I see labels for months, time, year. “Just put in the particulars which you want and it’ll take you there. You can’t interact at all but you can observe.”
Doing as directed, my instructors realize that I’m going back one day at a time and explain how I can do it more efficiently by using a little scroll control to the side. I can designated how I want to scroll, by year, day, hour, etc. So I play with it, confirming that Papi has been asking to be let out at that hour and minute for some time.
I finish with that exploration and give it back. “This is really useful,” I say. “It’d be great if I could go back and see what happened during other times, with other people.”
“Oh, you can do that,” one answers. “You can use it whenever you want. Just let us know.”
Dream end
Floof Jockey
Floof Jockey (floofinition) – Individual(s) responsible for maintaining order among animals and taking care of them.
In use: “In many households, floof jockey duties such as feeding, cleaning litter boxes, and exercise, are divided among children to help develop a sense of responsibility.”
Someday’s Theme Music
Someday has come. Without work, without church, without routines save the one to get out and write again, my world has a narrow scope. Days on end seem the same, domino pieces with the same number of dots in the same order. Specifics like weather change, sometimes adding to the experience. Anyway, we’re planning a cruise — well, looking for one — after putting it off for a few years due to COVID. Just a small cruise, right, to feel the ocean’s roll and look at the expanse and remind myself how tiny I am. We’ll still working on our moving plans, but that’s going to consume a lot of energy. I’m not deeply into it yet.
It’s Sunday, Feb 5, 2023. Breakfast was already consumed, a bit of cantaloup and a cinnamon raisin bagel, and the coffee was drunk. News has been perused. Rain fell through the night, replenishing more local reservoirs and cisterns. Snow accumulates in the snowpack. 40 F now, under a gray crown, looking for 50 later. Sunrise and sunset are 7:20 AM and 5:30 PM. Celebrating a friend’s new grandchild, number four for him. He and his family are very pleased. I’m happy and excited because they’re happy and excited. It’s contagious stuff.
Didn’t sleep well, dealing with floofquests to go in and out, to be fed and petted, loved on and played with. They don’t want to recognize that I’m a day creature. “Come join us at night,” they urge.
“It’s dark and I can’t see,” I reply.
“Don’t worry, we’ll help you. Mind that hairball. It’s fresh.”
A bright moon was a break-out hit at one point. Outside with Papi, enjoying the fresh rain-enlivened air, Papi said, “See? There’s plenty of light. What is that over there? What the hell, I’m out of here.” He scurried back, leaving me standing there and staring, mumbling to myself, “What is it? I don’t see anything. Papi? Papi?”
I was also wringing hands over editing decisions and book directions, cursing my novel as a vile creature that needs to be buried. It’s all good, just the process. A looonnngggg process sometimes. Out of this, The Neurons have directed a song from the last century into the morning mental music stream. “Epic” by Faith No More was released in 1990. I was still assigned to Germany at the time, and the song was hugely popular with the troops rotating in as part of Desert Shield/Desert Storm. It was heard often and loud.
Here’s the music. Stay pos and enjoy Sunday as best as you can. I will. Sort of. Cheers.
Polyfloofdron
Polyfloofdron (floofinition) – A collection of several animals doing activities, such as sleeping or nursing.
In use: “After eating, grooming, and playing, the dog, cat, and kittens came together as a polyfloofdron on a bench cushion in the fur-melting sun.”
Pawzer
Pawzer (floofinition) – Floof term for a large and powerful individual, essentially comparing them to a German Panzer tank from the WWII era.
In use: “Encountering Bruno, the big dog which the kittens were to live with, all reacted to the pawzer with spitting and hissing, claws drawn, daring him to come closer. Though Bruno looked like a pawzer, he was sweet and relaxed, settling on the floor. Within a short while, the cats were using him as a mountain to play.”
Groundhog Day’s Theme Music
A one and a two.
Today is Groundhog Day in ‘Merica, which makes it Feb 2. It’s 2023, and Thursday.
Bright sunshine warming the house and beaming the windows bolstered my spirits. Flipping to another piece of weather script, winds shout and moan like football fans when there’s an interception. Current temp is 47 F but it feels like 43, with the sun and air lifting us up to 53 F later, which will probably feel like something else. 7:23 AM witnessed the sun’s breakthrough moment over Ashlandia. It’ll be 5:27 PM when the Earth’s action takes our sunshine away.
The Neurons are singing “My Baby Loves Lovin'” in the morning mental music stream. The pop hit hit when I was feeding the cats their kibble and sang, “My kitties love kibble,” as they chowed through the morning offering.
Looking up this song was required. I had a scant idea that it was released probably around 1970 but no idea who released it. Fortunately I have access to this thing called the web. It managed to produce facts that the song was released in 1970 by a Brit band called White Plains. Disagreement surrounds the lead vocalist. Was it Tony Burrow? I didn’t know the man’s name, but there are claims that he was lead vocalist for five different bands who had one number one song each. I’d never heard of this before. Besides this song, there were “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” by Edison Lighthouse in 1970; “Gimme Dat Ding” (1970) by the Pipkins; “Beach Baby” by the First Class, another 1970 hit; and “United We Stand” by the Brotherhood of Man, 1970. However, some of Burrow’s claims about his participation is doubted and seems exaggerated. He might be the George Santos of 1970 pop.
Coffee has touched down at my side. One cat is hovering close, reporting back to Floof HQ about my activities. The other has braved the wind for a secret meeting. Stay positive. Here’s the hit. Cheers
Today’s Wandering Thought
He liked creating games out of the things he did. Arriving at the coffee shop, he noted the parked cars. The game was, ‘Whose Car is This?’ He liked matching cars with the individuals inside.
Another regular game was Sock Toss when he put clothes away after the laundry was done. He had a .600 average.
The oddest game was probably sneak up on the cats. Tucker wasn’t included much any longer. He was old and slept deeply. Papi was his usual target, but the little ginger usually moved ears and lifted his head to smile at him before he was within three feet. Papi knew the game, and he always won.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
“Listen,” he said. “I need to eat now. See, I need to take of myself so I can take care of you. Who will take care of you if I’m not here?”
The cat meowed back.
He wasn’t sure if his message was received.
Fabfloofist
Fabfloofist (floofinition) – 1. Someone who makes up stories about animals.
In use: “Sarah was just three years old, but she was already a fabfloofist, regaling her relatives with adventure tales featuring the family’s cat and dog.”
Michael Seidel, writer 