Floofmeling (floofinition) – when one housepet, often a cat, repeatedly strikes another housepet.
In use: “Despite the floofmeling that the young cat rained on the young dog, the dog stayed where he was, continuing to try to smell and lick the cat.”
Imfloofable
Imfloofable (floofinition) – a housepet that refuses to change its personality or accomodate any others.
In use: “Although she tried introducing other pets into the household, Flash was imfloofable, refusing to accept any other creature in the home. Like the Highlander, there could be only one.”
Telefloofnesis
Telefloofnesis (floofinition) – a housepet’s production of motion in objects (as by a quantum medium) without contact or other physical means.
In use: “Sometimes, playing with his human pet, the Cocker Spaniel employed his telefloofnesis to steal food from the man’s plate and eat it, always baffling the man about how it had happened.”
Floofternize
Floofternize (floofinition) – housepets who are friendly with one another, regardless of species or relationships.
In use: “To everyone’s satisfaction, the home cats floofternized with the visiting felines, with Doodlecat and Stoney buddying up to one another, and the other cats sharing their food and toys.”
Inflooftion
Inflooftion (floofinition) – increasing the number of housepets in a household.
In use: “While economic experts worried about inflation, Miles worried about inflooftion. He’d begun by feeding one stray dog, and now here she was, leading a small pack of puppies. After seeing those faces, he dismisses his inflooftionary worries and invited them into his house.”
Floofthora
Floofthora (floofinition) – an abundance of housepets.
In use: “It’d begun with a rescue Pittie and a rescue cat. Then a stray tom was taken in, puppies and kittens were born, a parrot came along. Suddenly a floofthora was ruling their home.”
Floofanym
Floofanym (floofinition) – the other names by which a housepet is know, either to one another, or to the people they live with; a housepet’s secret name; the names given to a housepet seen by others when their real name(s) aren’t known.
In use: “Although her name was Jade, her floofanym was Pokey, given for the lazy deliberation with which she enjoyed investigating things.”
Clothing and Cats
Getting ready for Friendsgiving, I selected my attire. I would wear a green vee-neck Tommy Bahama sweater.
I’d bought that sweater the year I moved from Half Moon Bay, California, to Ashland, Oregon, which was 2005. Funny, though, I bought it while on a visit Half Moon Bay to spend Thanksgiving with friends. I bought that sweater a few days before the holiday, and wore it that Thanksgiving. Here I was, thirteen years later, putting it on for another Thanksgiving.
I’d been thinking about my clothes for several previous days before that. The shirt I’d worn earlier that day had been bought in 1998. The one worn the day before was also bought in the late nineties. My shirts, sweaters, and underwear seem to last a while. My jeans and shoes don’t.
I was thinking all of this because I was thinking about cats. I’d moved up with two in 2005, Pogo and Scheckter. Pogo died the following year, killed by a car. His ashes are in our bedroom.
We moved to this new house in 2006, now with just Scheckter. Within three months, we also had Lady and Quinn.
Lady was a rescue. A man I knew through the coffee shop had rescued her. I used to buy him coffee and bagels, and donate cat food to him. Lady had been living behind the movie theater. He started feeding her but it took a year to earn her trust. Now his health was falling and he had to move. Moving meant giving up five of his six cats. He could take one. He had homes for four more. Only Lady, skittish and shy, didn’t have a home.
Then, on a cold, windy midnight, I’d gone out to call Scheckter in. Quinn instead turned up. Since it was a nasty night, we gave him food and shelter. We hunted down his owners and returned him to them, but he kept coming back to us. They moved, leaving him behind.
So, for seven years, it was Scheckter, Lady, and Quinn, three wonderful cats who got along well. 2013 found us losing Scheckter, and then Lady, leaving just Quinn.
Not to worry, though. Three more cats, Tucker, Boo Radley, and Papi (a.k.a. Meep), found us. We were a four-cat family for a while, even though Tucker, Boo, and Papi often fought. As Scheckter and Lady were dying, Tucker showed up and begged for food and help. We tried to find his people but no one claimed him. He had medical issues which took a few years and some money to resolve. Then came Boo, also begging for food, and also unclaimed. Next was Papi.
Quinn remained the sweet lord of the house. He was diagnosed with lymphoma in this past September and died two days before Thanksgiving. He had a strong will until his last four days. I tried keeping him comfortable and helping him, but he finally told me, I’m done. I didn’t want to accept it, but you can’t argue with some things. I cried and let him go.
We’re back down to three cats. They get along better, although there are daily hissing encounters. I couldn’t help but thinking as I dressed on Thanksgiving, I wish my cats would last as long as my clothes.
Flooftzy
Flooftzy (floofinition) – a housepet who is eccentric, scatterbrained, easily confused, or does silly things.
In use: “Demonstrating new levels of being flooftzy, the little tabby cat attacked the garbage can’s swivel lid, beating it as it went around and around.”
Phlooommm
I don’t know what was up with the gingerbun this morning, a.k.a., the orange feline floof known as Papi, but also called Meep (in appreciation of the meeping sound he uses for a meow).
I’d fed him and let him out of the house. An hour later, I checked on him to see if he wanted in. He wasn’t around the back door. As I headed for the front door, I thought I heard a thump – perhaps the sound of a cat whacking the door with his paw – at the back door, so I reversed course. Yes, there he sat, waiting for the door to open.
So, you know, I did.
Phlooommm, a bright orange streak galloped past me. In wonder, I turned and watched him make a circuit of the living room, dining room, and kitchen, come back to me, and stop, looking up at me with his tail standing tall. I swear he was grinning. As I closed the door, I said, “Aren’t you in high spirits?”
Phlooommm, Papi bolted away, leaping up onto dining room chairs and off, sprinting past Tucker, the house lord, spinning on the hardwood floor, and then racing back to me to slam to a grinning halt in front of me again.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
Yes, he replied, tail up, rubbing against my leg. Then, phlooommm, he flashed away.
Michael Seidel, writer 