Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Sectflooferian (floofinition) – Limited to information or activities related to animals. Origins: 1819, Northeastern United States.
In Use: “After another kitten was added to the household, the patio was screened in and became a sectflooferian lounging area for the cats, dogs, and birds, with several feeding stations, beds, sofas, chairs, boxes, and artificial trees set up for the floofs’ exclusive use.”
Where is the fur
Where is the purr
Where is the regarding gaze
Maybe out in the sun
Somewhere having fun
Or resting in some shade
Then he arrives
Taking me by surprise
Leaping onto my lap
To tell his news
Through chirps and mews
It’s my buddy, my fur friend, my cat
The usual places are empty
Our air is still
No soft noises are heard
None are there for a treat or a pill.
Toys are collected and put away
Wondering if they’ll be needed on another day.
Food bowls are cleaned, beds are washed,
Unopened food is given away,
The others are tossed.
Quiet shadows every motion and move
You think of memories
Which help and soothe.
But the faces remain, always there
In the empty space, an empty chair.
Floofments (floofinition) – Garments or articles of clothing used when engaging with animals. Origins: First known use, late 20th century, United States (South Carolina).
In Use: “Whenever something had to be done with Rolex (named for the way he watched) like administering medicine, giving Rollie a bath or clipping nails was pursued, Sue and Andi first donned well-worn floofments — essentially heavily used older clothing no longer worn in public and thick gloves — to protect their bodies.”
Infloofsion (floofinition) Animal act of wrongfully entering upon, seizing, or taking possession of something which they’re not supposed to have. Origins: First known use was in fifteen century bakeries, butchers, and fish markets.
In Use: “Like many felines, Domino quickly became infloofmous for his infloofsions, stealing popcorn, sandwiches, pieces of fish, and his favorite, cheese pizza.”
In Use: “Ramona Rex infloofsions after escaping her kennel amounted to a haphazard hoard of dirty socks, shoes, underwear, and shorts, causing Kylie to observe to her husband that it was ‘almost like the dog wanted to dress like a human.'”
Floofnouement (floofinition) – The final outcome of the main dramatic complication involving animals. Origins: Floonch dénouement, literally, unfloofing, from Middle Floof desnouement, from desnouer to unfloof, from Old Floonch desfloofer, from des- de- + noer to tie, from Flooftin nofloof, from floofus floof.
In Use: “Everyone held their breath when the huge old dog, who never succumbed to gratefully sharing his space with anyone met the tiny new puppy, but the floofnouement found the two stretched out, napping against one another like old friends.”
In Use: “George always greeted ideas of getting a cat with a dismissive grunt but the floofnouement revealed that George’s lap was the preferred napping site for the two tiny fur balls, a pattern that remained as long as man and beast were together.”
Floofeffect (floofinition) – Impact of animal activities on psyche, emotions, or mood. Origins: Internet, the United States, 2001.
In Use: “During the COVID-19 pandemic, people began discovering the positive floofeffects which fur people can deliver, and adoptions shot up.”I
In Use: “Hearing his cat’s happy chirp when Alex dished out wet food always lifted Alex’s mood, no matter how crappy the rest of us day was.”
In Use: “Running with her dog and playing with her in the park gave Barb a floofeffective of energy like a B-12 shot in the arm.”
Subfloofmate (floofinition) A change of animal behavior to deal with an unacceptable situation or decision. Origins: 1559, Middle Floofish from Floofieval Flooftin, subflooftamus.
In Use: “Ollie wanted treats, to which Ali said, “No, you’ve already had our treats and can’t have more because you’re getting fat,” which caused Ollie to subfloofmate his frustrations by going into the bedroom and knocking everything off the dresser.”
In Use: “Part of the success of suavexavier’s posts about his dobies is how they subfloofmate to deal with the situations he presents them, especially when it’s Bear.”
It’s supposed to be the first day of summer in Ashlandia: Frida, June 20, 2025. But it’s fifty and has a certain autumn flavor to the air. Sun and blue sky have surrendered to charcoal clouds. Rain veils aren’t there but an atmosphere of impending rain lurks. Today’s high will only be 61.
The cat is not happy. Prancing out for sunshine, he stops and looks around. “Right,” I say. “Where’s the sun?” The cat doesn’t say anything. He’s not much for conversing. “Want to come back in?” I ask. The cat’s gaze at me is rich with skepticism and disappointment. “I can’t control the sun,” I say. “I’m going back in.” I go in and close the door. A few minutes later, I check on the cat. He’s sulking. I open the door. He hurries in. “I agree,” I say. He meows for food and is given a third breakfast to make up for the sunless suffering he endured.
My mouth is healing. This is Post Op Day 2. Teeth are missing from the upper right and left sides. I’m not allowed hot stuff yet. I make oat oatmeal and let it cool, doing the same with my black coffee. I inhale the coffee’s aroma, comforting myself that I can soon gulp down a tepid splash. I make my warm water with salt and swish, rinse, and spit, as required, marking it off my mental checklist, along with two Ibuprofen and my Amoxicillin. I have pain killers but I don’t use them. Just give me some coffee, damn it.
My wife is leaving for the gym. “Do you want me to pick you up anything?” she asks.
“Sunshine,” I sniff.
“I mean food.”
“No.”
I sit and eat my chilled oatmeal and smell my coffee.
I check my phone for texts. Nothing from Dad’s side in Texas nor Mom’s side in Pittsburgh, PA. Guess both of their issues are temporarily abated.
Today’s music is “How Does It Feel” by London Grammar. The Neurons turned it loose in the morning mental music stream after my wife asked how my mouth felt. “Fine,” I answer, feeling grumbly.
The coffee is cool enough to drink. The sky has gotten darker. It’s almost time for my chlorhexidine gluconate oral rinse. I raise my cup and look out the window. “To summer.”
Michael Seidel, writer 