Flooftective (floofinition) – 1. An animal who enjoys investigating things and resolving mysteries. Origins: first noted in Europe in 1732.
In Use: “Tobias the cat and Josh the dog were both flooftectives, so any household activity drew the pair in to determine what was going on, whether any food was involved, and how they might benefit.
Recent Use: “Monica the dog became an Internet hero when she used her flooftective skills to find a hapless kitten and then encourage the poor flooflet to follow her home.
Monica the flooftective
2. Actions taken to keep or make animals safe. Origins: Public use was originally found in newspaper articles circa 1849.
In Use: “Learning of a cougar prowling the neighborhood, people took the flooftective measures of bringing in their pets and closing pet doors.”
Recent Use: “A newer development to add flooftective elements to a house is catios, often made by adding small cages or kennels to a patio which cats can access directly from the house.”
3. A person who undertakes solving a mystery which involves an animal. Origins: first use was in the early twenty-first century on the world wide web.
In Use: “Determining how dinosaurs died when fossils are found often require people to be flooftectives and examine the evidence for clues.”
Recent Use: “Coming home to find much of the house destroyed, Connie became a flooftective to learn which of the cats and dogs had turned over the plants, tore up pillows, and spread toilet paper in the bathroom and down the hall. All suspects presented innocent visages, so the task was challenging until some paw prints were found.”
Cruoof(floofinition) – An intense fatuation with an animal. Origins: Internet, 2022
In Use: “After arriving as a rescue dog at Sara, the senior lab immediately developed a cruoof on the kittens Sara was fostering, inviting them to cuddle and play with him, and watching over them when they ate.”
In Use: “Butterscotch had a cruoof on Mocha, always running to him when she saw him, and grazing beside him as he ate.”
Recent Use: “Lisa developed a cruoof on her aunt’s Bernese Mountain Dog, Samwise, and within a few minutes, the dog seemed to have the same feelings for the four-year-old as the two spent the rest of the day side by side.”
It’s foggy in Ashlandia again. Fog closed in on our fair town, where the mountains are low and the valley is narrow, yesterday afternoon. The for went away for the night and returned this morning, along with a doughnut sprinkle of rain that’s expected to keep up intermittently for the day. It’s all part of the season called aunter, which falls in the last third of fall, bringing dampness, dark days, and cold air, and winter, when the snow is summoned.
But look out. It’s 45 F now but we’re gonna get warmer, even broaching the sixties, maybe, they say, maybe getting as warm as 66F. Not bad for a aunter day.
This is Wednesday, December 26, 2023.
I was in a Dollar Store with my wife yesterday. She’s planning a holiday gift for her exercise class instructor. My spouse has been going to this class since 2005. The instructor is 78 and has been telling people what to do to music since the early 1980s. She’s quite popular. My wife became friends with her over exercising and books. My wife and two others, who were then known as the Woo-Woo girls, started talking about books they were reading as they warmed up before class. Soon the instructor joined, and then a few others, giving rise to the Ladies’ Most Excellent Book Club, which became the book club. They limit it by vote to ten people, and they’re serious readers. We’ll be going to the instructors’ house for a traditional Swedish smorgasborg later this month.
Anyway, as part of the holidays, my wife has started a new tradition of collecting money and signing a card for the instructor. The instructor rarely keeps the money, either donating it to families who need it, or to local causes with the food bank. My wife likes going to the Dollar Store for supplies. It might be a Dollar Tree store; I don’t pay attention. I know they’re no longer a store where things are a dollar or less. But yesterday surprised me.
The dollar store has restaurant and big box store gift cards, along with iTunes gift cards. Many were for $25 or $50. I didn’t bother asking the busy staff it the cards sold for a dollar. They’ve probably heard that joke, and nothing on that end cap display said, “Olive Garden $50 Gift Card: One Dollar”.
It’s just more evolution for the dollar store trio who combined into one business entity a few years ago. I remember first going to one of them thirty years ago after moving back to the United States. I was like, everything in the store is for sale for a dollar? Why, yes, that was exactly the premise: a dollar or less. Being in the military, not getting paid much, and liking a bargain, we went frequently to the Dollar Tree or Dollar Store to get household cleaning supplies, notebooks and paper supplies — including greeting cards — and whatever little bargains we found.
Sad that the stores have changed their philosophy, but that’s how progress works. I guess. At least we’ll someday be able to tell future generations that there used to businesses which sold things for a dollar. They’ll probably ask us, “What’s a dollar?”
An apartment building neighbors us not too far away. With the leaves out of the trees, I can see some of their upper windows from my backyard. Yesterday, I saw a cat in one of the windows. It’s not the first cat I’ve seen in the building, so it’s not that remarkable. This was a fine looking cat, young and slender-appearing, sitting erect as a statue in that graceful cat manner we so often see. White with calico spots, it was intently watching me. I wondered if the cat was lonely and I hoped that it was’t.
That tiny reflection invited The Neurons to offer a song to the mental music stream, where it continues in the morning mental music stream (Trademark nutty). “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, not to be confused with “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, came out in 1982. So it’s for that cat and the other floofs alone and watching that this song is offered as Wednesday’s theme music.
Stay pos and strong, and lean in. Coffee has arrived at the brain center, exciting The Neurons. Here we go, off to start the day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Floofpell (floofinition) – Urge or drive forward or on by an animal’s exertion, coercion, or insistence to do something. Origins: from Middle English, derived from Latin. First noted use 15th century.
In Use: “Intimidated by the cat, the dog was floofpelled to surrender the pet bed, even though he outweighed her by fifty pounds.”
In Use: “Many cats seem to learn early how to floofpell people to get up and let them in or out of the house, or to feed them in the middle of the night.”
Recent Use: “Animals often effectively employ ‘doe eyes’, a hopeful, charming gaze, to floofpell people to do things for them.”
Jill made a great list of things which she is thankful for. I didn’t change it, but I’d add some personal names under the letters: Keri, Dee, Frank, Lisa, Gina, Pat, Amy, Sharon, Debby, Jonathan, Jessica, Cynthia, David, Andrea, Michael, Barb, Jon, Becky, Brenden, Landon, Colten, Lauren, Audrey, Rhea, Matt, Vince, and many other nieces and nephews. Beer was added under B, and wine is found under W. Knowledge is added to k, and L is amended with learning.
Oh, yeah, you’ll find pizza and pie under P. Can’t forget them, along with writing. You know where it goes.
A flourish of color and wind heralded Wednesday’s daybreak on November 15, 2023 in Ashlandia, where red-leaved maples are spectacular and plentiful, shimmering with a tree full of leaves like they’re lit from within. After rain dusted us for a few nocturnal hours, it’ll be dry for the day’s remaining hours. 54 F now, we’re reaching for 62 F today under a sky where sun and clouds continue their seasonal skirmish. Sunshine is mostly winning, and the day feels fine under a balmy autumn wind that tears leaves off the trees and carries them on whirling rides.
The 15th of the month was payday for me for most of my military career, a day which we looked forward to when I was a lowly paid airman. In the latter stages of my career, the government announced we’d only be paid once per month going forward to save the gov. money. That forced many people to be more circumspect with how they spent, impelling people who habitually went payday to payday, comfortable in the half-month increments, into planning what and when to spend to make it last.
I slept in late today, staying abed until after nine. Wasn’t a plan; cozy and warm, with Tucker, the black and white long hair floof sharing my pillow, purring like an idling tractor, The Neurons said, “Let’s just stay here.” Didn’t even consult me. Then Tucker raised his head and sneezed across my face, ending the sleep-in with a jolt. Rolling out, feet thumping the floor, I hastened to the bathroom and rinsed off my face, giving particular focus to my mouth. I’m not a germophobe but if I was setting up a dating profile, cat drool across my lips would be listed as a turnoff.
I thanked him for getting me up and then went into the feeding ritual. Papi hurried in for his portion, patiently sitting and watching, only vocalizing his needs after I picked up his bowl to set onto the floor. Then it was like Papi was suddenly starving as a hunger-driven long wail of desire was unleashed. Still, as I set the bowl down, he took a few moments to head bump my arm and hand several times and purr before dropping his head to the bowl and plowing in.
As if now making fun of me because I was late, dashing around, muttering to myself, “Got to step it up a few gears,” The Neurons delivered a 1970 song called “Give Me Just a Little More Time” by Chairmen of the Board to the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). The song came out when I was thirteen, and I always enjoyed the drama and urgency the vocalist emoted. Some might label it over the top, but I felt some kinship with the message presented as I trekked the hormone trippy path of understanding sex, love, and other emotions as a teenager. I’m still working onit.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been consumed and is kicking in, giving me a heartbeat and clearing the fog out of my head. Here we go. Cheers
At about 6 AM, I was pulled out of a dream at Papi’s request. He needed to go back out. Papi, aka the ginger blade, likes to come in and nibble some kibble, and then go back out to see if anything has changed outside.
Letting him out, I shrugged off the dream to think about it later and nestled back under the covers. At that point, I felt and heard Tucker get off the bed. A minute later, I heard him crunching kibble.
Silence came.
Litter box scratching followed.
That’s when I came fully awake as Tucker did some business and launched a stench that exfoliated my skin.
Had to immediately empty that. The good news, I told myself, is that last year’s COVID bout didn’t seem to affect my sense of smell.
Good to find those silver linings, even if they’re in a litter box.
I was at a drama and writing camp. Maybe forty others were present. I didn’t know anyone else. Some of them knew one another. Ages ranged from mid-twenties to mid-sixties. Though I’m a RL 68, I’m around 40 here. It’s a rustic sort of setting.
One of the more popular people is a younger, dramatic person. A large black dog accompanies her everywhere. While we’re at one of our outdoor gatherings milling around, her dog eyes me, and then cuts through the crowd to visit with me. So does a cat. The dog’s actions surprises everyone. After a friendly visit with him, he returns to his person. The cat rolls around and is given affection.
The oldest person there comes to me with a sword. I’m not a sword expert but it reminds me of a US Civil War calvary officer saber. He points it at me at first, talking about it a while, and then presents it to me for my inspection. I’m mystified and leery by what he’s doing. It seems a little off center and nutty. He sort of brusquely pouts and asks for me to give him back his sword. Naturally, I do and he walks away. Okay, fine.
Well, sometime during the night (in the dream), I then write a long short-story about the woman with the dog and the man with the sword. I don’t know how but others come to me, explaining that they’d heard I’d written a short story. They wrote something too, and they think that we can combine the work. The woman with the dog knows about it, too, although she only knows me as the guy who dog went to. But, since her dog likes and trusts me, she wants to work with me.
So I agree, and then sit and edit, rewrite, and revise, adding more, and breaking the story up into four parts. Four us, including the women with the dog, come together to read and combine what another guy has written. They start reading it aloud, and the rest of the camp comes to listen, including the man with the sword. When he hears it, he comes to me to have his part expanded and reveals some things to me.
With the black dog and the cat beside me, I quickly revise and write more. Everyone is really pleased by the results. People are telling me, “I think you nailed it.” They want to know what else I’ve written, and are giving me other ideas for story, because they think I’d be the best person to write it.
It’s Sunday, August 27, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the beer and wine is above average. 65 F now, today’s forecast is for smoke and sunshine. Smokeshine? Sunsmoke? Don’t know. High will be 93 F.
Wedding stuff presently frequently preoccupies us. A nephew getting married, we’re down to a few weeks. I’m buying a suit, planning a haircut, making hotel, flight, and rental car reservations, talking to the floofs sitter. Wife has found her dress and is working on accessories. Thank dog we’re not in the wedding party.
Woke up with wet elbow syndrome today. Familiar with this? Tucker, my feline buddy, enjoys morning cuddling. He signifies this by getting up on the bed, finding a hand and tapping it with a claw until the hand is raised and offered for his use. Then he rubs his face against the hand and fingers, working it until I start participating. I guess today he couldn’t find a hand, but a bare elbow was discovered, so he engaged in it with his face until I woke up and felt the wet skin. Don’t know which part of the engagement actually brought me out of slumber, the rubbing, or the wet. I immediately began fulfilling the terms of the contracts (which I don’t remember signing) to scratch him. He threw himself down against me so that belly scratching could commence. A thick-furred booger head, his belly fur gets knotted and is often home to small sticks, leaves, etc. I work my way through the knots and remove all that stuff.
Read more sickening racist news. Blacks being targeted shot in Florida. Another black couple harrassed and handcuffed while touring their new home after a neighbor called the cops because he couldn’t believe that a Black could afford a house in HIS neighborhood. Ending after the builder came and confirmed that the couple had bought the house. THEN the cops uncuffed them. Then the neighbor flipped them the finger and yelled, “Fuck you” and retreated to his house. Really, WTF is wrong with people?
The Neurons have a battle of the bands happening in my morning mental music stream (Trademark problematic). First up is Alabama 3 with “Woke Up This Morning”, known as being the theme song for the defunct TV series, “The Sopranos”. That’s not a surprise; I posted it to someone’s page yesterday, and “woke up this morning with a wet elbow in the bed” crossed my mind as song lyrics, forcing The Neurons to reprise the song. The other bit of music is the Rolling Stones with “Under My Thumb”. Don’t know what brought that out. I was busy with the feeding routine for me and the cats (they’re fed first) when the song settled into the MMMS.
I think I’m going with Alabama 3 today. Just seems more fitting to my mood.
Coffee is ready. It’s pleasant out on the back patio, if you don’t mind a little smoke. Stay pos and be strong. Here we go. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 