Floofregard (floofinition) – An animal behavior act of treating someone or something as unworthy of regard or notice.

In use: “Pouring enthusiasm into his tone, he said, “Who’s hungry?” The cat responded with killing floofregard that culminated with a yawn before she commenced some idle grooming.”


Skyfloof (floofinition) – Floofnadian Vancouver-based floof rock (flock) band originally active from 1971 to 1973.

In use: A song from Skyfloof’s debut album, “Floofflower”, provided the group with its most notable success.”

A Life

She’d wrestled and cried

and purred and loved,

and was loved

and bit and clawed

(mostly in play)


and then gave a sigh and closed her eyes

just for a moment

just to rest

(just for a moment)

before giving up the fight to live

started seventeen years ago.


Flooftigue (floofinition) – Extreme tiredness resulting from mental or physical exertion or illness associated with an animal.

In use: “She loved her collies and cats dearly but sometimes the flooftigue experienced from their constant demands and care (especially the young, rebellious Cortney, now nickname the S.S. Rambunctious, as in “Uh, oh, the S.S. Rambunctious is under steam again, look out,”) occasionally made her wonder life without her pets would be like. Then one of them would give her a kiss and a smile, and all would be forgiven.”

Cell Floof

Cell Floof (floofinition) – An animal who guards, likes, steals, or uses cell phones.

In use: “Seeing the unsecured cell phone on the bench in the foyer, Tucker assumed his cell floof fur and curled up on it, allowing only a little to show, so his people could appreciate what he was doing.”

Tucker returns from his outdoor napping and sentry routine, and assumes duties as a cell floof (see it by his head?).

Two More Dreams

I often dream about four things: being in the military (again), cars, houses, and animals. Two of those made it into the second dream. It was the main event. First, though, came a dream snippet.

I was working on rice flavors. I came up with a new, exciting idea: cinnamon rice. Awakening, I thought, cinnamon and rice? That’s been around for eons, as in, say, rice pudding. I was quite excited in the dream, though.

My boss entered. I made my announcement.

He loved the idea. “Cinnamon and rice. That’s our new potato chip flavor.”

Whaaat? I’d been working on potato chip flavors? I was aghast, horrified, and crestfallen. Then I said, move on.

My second dream found me in a huge house. My wife and I had been living there for years, but the place surprised me with its size. Besides several levels, the house featured several wings and a huge yard.

I’d been living on the main levels, I realized, and had forgotten about the other parts. Now, remembering them, I went on a re-discovery exploration. Everything was well lit, plush and well furnished, but some of the white marble steps were dusty. I had to clean those off, I told myself.

Back in the house, my black cat was clamoring for my attention, but I had a house guest. I took her to a breakfast nook off the second dining room (the more informal one). There was a table with three chairs. Two were standard dining room chairs, white with light blue padded seats. The third, in the same motif, was on wheels and featured a wicker headrest that could be folded up to extend the back.

I presented this to my friend. I hadn’t seen here in over a decade. She’d never been to my house. Dressed in light blue and white that weirdly matched the dining room and breakfast nook, she stood there with a laptop bag over her shoulder. “Perfect.” She set her bag down. “I will write and type here.”

Good. She wouldn’t bother us there. But I said, “You’ll be facing a wall.” That was anathema to me; I liked facing a window so I could look out.

“No, I like facing walls, so I’m not disturbed,” she replied.

Weird to me. Meanwhile, I had to pick up the dogs from the vet. I went out as the van arrived, bringing them back. (Yeah, that confused me for a second; I thought I had to go get them, but no, they’d been brought to me.)

I took the dogs inside and let them go. They rushed to one bathroom. Surprised, I followed them in. There, I found kittens: a gray, ginger, and two black and white. They were toddling around, their little tails straight up the air like pointers. The dogs avidly sniffed them.

I called to my wife, “Where did these kittens come from?”

She didn’t answer. That’s where the dream ended.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Song from 1969 is rambling through my head. (Guess it’s Throwback Thursday.) (This is Thursday, innit? Days are sort of bleeding together with a lovely melange of rain, sun, and night.)

“Good Times, Bad Times” by Led Zeppelin is cranking through the stream? Why? Because it can. But I think it sorta works for these P.D. (pandemic days, or pandays, if you must). “Good times, bad times, you know I’ve seen my share.” Plant sings it so much better than me, according to my cats. But then, they’re very critical by nature. They’re like, “Stop singing. Feed me. Stop moving. Let me sleep on your lap. What’re you doing? Where you going? Get back here. Don’t close that door. Hey, what’re you doing? What’s going on behind that door? Let me in! Let me in!”


All I Want (A Cat’s Lament)

Give me strength

to not claw you as you sit

looking at me

and telling me,

“I don’t understand what you want.”

You’re not trying.

We both know it.

We know what I want.

You’re just being dogmatic about what you’ll give me.

Pig-headed about giving in.

Mulish in your approach to our relationship.

Drawing your head into your shell.

Sticking it into the ground.

Or scurrying, mouse-like, from my demands.

Slithering away from facing up to my natural superiority.

Following the herd about what should be done.

Instead of striking out on your own,

and going in there,

and opening every food that’s available

until we find one that makes me happy.

That’s all I want.

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