Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofonality (floofinition) – a housepet’s combination of mannerisms and or qualities that establish their distinctive character.
In use: “Charlie was one cat, but with silver-stripped tiger tabby’s floofonality made his people swear he was more than one gato. He certaintly ate like more than one cat.”
I’ve been dreaming, but most of it’s been the standard surviving storms, climbing mountains, and flying stuff. This dream last night was odd, so I thought it worth thinking more about, which translates to writing about it.
I was creating a greeting card. Nothing special about that. It’s something that I’ve done off and on on computers for decades. In this one, though, I was creating a greeting card with the outline of Oregon on the cover. It was a cut-out showing a photo of me with my wife.
Trying to figure out what should go inside, I realized I didn’t know the card’s expected recipient. Closing it to think, I looked at the card’s front and saw that I’d printed, “Wish you were here.” I realized the photo was of us when we were younger.
That made me laugh. Someone was calling me (off dream, if you will). I said, “Just a minute. I’m not done.”
Then, looking at the card, I thought, that could be the basis for a clever line of cards.
End dream.
I woke up smiling.
It happened on a Monday
I thought it was a Sunday
not the change I sought
When it came Thursday
it was supposed to be Tuesday
the man told me, that’s what I’d bought
I hunted Friday and found Saturday
a tattered day if I ever knew one
So I hung onto Wednesday
the only real friendly day
drunk like another day doesn’t matter.
One cat hissed at another. The other responded with a wail. Tails went down. Assuming combat stances, they circled one another.
“Stop,” the man said, “going past them. I don’t need this today. You two have lived together for over two years. When are you going to stop acting like animals?”
Bifloofisan (floofinition) – an effort or decision involving the agreement or cooperation of at least two housepets that usually oppose one another’s agendas.
In use: “Mounting a bifloofisan effort, the cats stopped their fighting to harass Peter until he finally got out of bed and fed them, even though it was three in the morning.”
Flooftivus (floofinition) – annual secular holiday that housepets established to celebrate living with people. The holiday, observed over a nine-day period, is structured to include auspicious routines. These include days dedicated to vomiting, washing and grooming, napping, gorging, dashing around the dwelling, shedding hair, hiding, shredding objects, and being needy. The holiday culminates with a visit by Santa Paws, and the giving of gifts.
In use: “Although he loved his pets, he dreaded Floofivus. The Day of Vomiting was not fun, but The Giving of Gifts struck him as worse.”
Floofowing (floofinition) – methodology used by housepets to follow or shadow people or other housepets, often to spy on them.
In use: “Movement from one area of the house to another always set up a floofowing. Sometimes the cats and dogs worked in teams, but it often seemed like one had the duty for a given period, and then was relieved by another.”
Floofatorium (floofintition) – a house or public building’s part where the housepets congregate.
In use: “With its cozy queen bed, three chairs, and a sliding door and windows that let in light, the guest room soon became the floofatorium during the day.”
On some days, he feels like he’s a target, maybe a bowling pin, set up and knocked down. If that was so, someone would have to be setting him up and rolling the ball that knocks him down. He wonders, the gods don’t bowl, do they?
Well, they’ve done it, they’ve changed their clocks, setting the time back an hour, “Falling back,” as they like to say in America.
It’s an easy task that he does before going to bed. He has five clocks to change. It’s amazing that the house has five clocks. One is mechanical and battery operated. The rest, on the thermostat, bedroom clock-radio, microwave, and stove, are electronic. Strange that they must be changed manually, but there you go. He confirms, while doing his task, that the guest room clock radio is unplugged. That’s to save energy. He smiles at that.
The household has four televisions. It’s a ridiculous number for a couple who spends a few hours with the TV at night, and always watch together. But there’s been a progression, so the older flat screen digital televisions find homes in the master and guest bedrooms. Neither room had a television before. Each television has time built into its systems. Software manages falling back for him. Same with the Fitbits, computers, tablets, VCR, and phones, but not the cars.
Time is everywhere. For days after going through the change, he thinks, “What is the real time? It’s actually really seven now.” He thinks about how this change affects the daylight, and the temperatures he endures, which affects how he dresses, and his daily plans. He likes the light arriving earlier but he misses the late day light.
He wonders, in the end, what the real time is. His body isn’t certain. One thing he notes: the cats admirably adjusted to the change.
