Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofsurp (floofinition) – for an animal to seize and hold objections, locations, or food in possession by force or without right.
In use: “Thowing a hissy fit, the fierce little cat floofsurped the big St. Bernard’s bed, leaving the huge canine floofmmoxed.”
Monday, December 27, 2021, 6:55 AM. Sunset was forty-five minutes away, but the light was strong. “Alexa, what’s the temperature?”
“The current temperature in Ashland is thirty degrees. Today’s high will be thirty degrees. Have a nice day, Michael.”
We have about fifteen inches of snow around the house. It snowed all Sunday, stopping at night, as if it was checking out of work. Snow fall resumed about 8 AM. I was checking on the temperature because I’d just let the ginger wonder, Papi (formerly known as Meep) onto the covered back patio. He walked the bare cement, judging the snow, then made two long leaps to some bushes where scant snow covered the ground. I thought he’d come back then, but no, he turned and made a mad dash along the fence and disappeared into the back bushes. Twenty minutes later, he returned, heading for the kibble.
For the record, sunset is at 4:45 PM. Snow is expected to continue throughout the day. For the record, I hope all are safe and warm.
I have an Eagles cover of “Please Come Home for Christmas” jing-jing-jingling in the morning mental music stream. Mellow cover, fine voice, came out in 1978, so it’s thick with memories.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the jabs when you can. Stay safe but have fun. They’re not mutually exclusive. Time for coffee for me, for being a good boy. At least, that’s what my cats tell me. Cheers
The little ginger feline galloped to the back door and loosed a demanding shriek.
The man strode to the door. “Are you sure you want out? It’s snowing out there, you know.”
“Meow,” the ginger replied in a determined tone.
“Okay.” The man opened the door.
The cat sprinted out, tail high, with a triumphant cry. The man watched as the cat took in the snow. His tail drooped, his pace slow, and his stride faltered. Stopping, he sniffed and stared.
“Want back in?” the man called with a laugh.
With a disdainful glance at the man, the cat hunkered down. He was an animal in his element. A little snow would not deter him from enjoying his wild side.
At least for a minute. Maybe two…
Happy day of Christmas Eve. It’s a sunny-cloudy-foggy-snowy-misty Friday this December 23, 2021. Lovely to gaze up at the snowed-in mountains and the white-topped evergreens. Snow levels are still a few thousand feet above us. Weather services said that’s gonna change, with snow levels dropping sufficiently for us to get one to three inches in the next twenty-four hours.
Temperature is 34 F. Sunrise kicked in at 7:38 AM and the sun will vacate our immediate airspace at 4:43 PM. A high of 42 is hoped for and a low of 30 is in the charts.
I was out driving in the weather yesterday. Went to dinner at some friends’ home — they provided salad and chili, perfect for the weather, and we provided an apple tart and cornbread, though I confess, I didn’t prepare anything (my wife made the cornbread), and the tart came from TJ’s. Cold and rainy outside, with dusk imminent, I began enjoying the 1979 Gary Numan song, “Cars”, in my mental music stream. It remained in the morning stream so I put it up as the day’s theme music. The song has that 80s robotic-techno vibe (yes, I know it came out in 1979, but music eras aren’t clearly defined by calendars).
I wish happy holidays for you, no matter what you observe (okay, I do draw the line at human and animal sacrifices, and don’t tell me about what anyone used to do), with good health, happiness, and joy. It’s hard to reach the trifecta but please keep trying. Stay positive, test negative, wear a durn mask as needed, and get the jabs when you can. Here’s the music. I’m gonna go rustle up some coffee. Get along, little kitties, get along, get along.
Cheers
The royal clowder gathered for the morning meal inspection. Knowing how critical the august felines could be, he followed the traditional instructions to the letter, calling them out by name as they sat and judged, enthusing about the food choice, opening the can with a flourish, and then placing it in three clean bowls and mushing it up for easy devouring.
Next was the important step. With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he ceremoniously turned and set the bowls down by each cat, reverently speaking their names as he did, “Boo, Tucker, Papi.”
The three stared at the bowls. Boo spoke for the others. “This again?”
Giving him lingering looks that reeked with disapproval, the three stalked away.
He had failed again.
I have three cats. One, Boo, our bedroom pantera, has cancer. This affects his mouth, obstructing his throat, causing him to drool, and naturally affecting his ability to eat. Started two weeks ago. It gets better, it gets worse.
He’s always been a cat that freaks out. Loud sounds — say a sneeze — launches a charge for the door. The vacuum cleaner being moved sends him skittering to get out of the house. Turning the vacuum on causes huge meowing fits by the door until he’s freed from the terror. Someone knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell is an incentive for a mad dash to the back door. If he can’t get out, he hides in the closet.
He barely permits us to scratch and pet his head and the back of his neck. Getting medicines into him is a ridiculous battle. We don’t know his back story of how he came to be like this. He came to us six years ago, another refugee who no one would claim. We gave him shelter and love to the best of our abilities.
He loves going outside in the morning. I permit him out, weather permitting. Although it’s in the forties today and sunny, wind gusts turned Boo back from going out. He couldn’t eat and was in pain, so he’s crying and drooling. My wife is doing her Zoom exercise class, so a voice is stridently shouting, “Heel toe! Grapevine! Four more!” This is set to blaring music. Today it’s old country and western. Of course, my wife is exercising, thumping across the floor in her shoes, which, yes, is a new stress-fear-anxiety source for Boo.
So, I’m trying to feed and comfort Boo. Also trying to feed the other cats. But they’re distracted by what’s going on with Boo, so they follow me around, trying to supervise and give advice.
Hell of a morning. All before coffee.
Michael Seidel, writer 