Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floof Jockey (floofinition) – Individual(s) responsible for maintaining order among animals and taking care of them.
In use: “In many households, floof jockey duties such as feeding, cleaning litter boxes, and exercise, are divided among children to help develop a sense of responsibility.”
Someday has come. Without work, without church, without routines save the one to get out and write again, my world has a narrow scope. Days on end seem the same, domino pieces with the same number of dots in the same order. Specifics like weather change, sometimes adding to the experience. Anyway, we’re planning a cruise — well, looking for one — after putting it off for a few years due to COVID. Just a small cruise, right, to feel the ocean’s roll and look at the expanse and remind myself how tiny I am. We’ll still working on our moving plans, but that’s going to consume a lot of energy. I’m not deeply into it yet.
It’s Sunday, Feb 5, 2023. Breakfast was already consumed, a bit of cantaloup and a cinnamon raisin bagel, and the coffee was drunk. News has been perused. Rain fell through the night, replenishing more local reservoirs and cisterns. Snow accumulates in the snowpack. 40 F now, under a gray crown, looking for 50 later. Sunrise and sunset are 7:20 AM and 5:30 PM. Celebrating a friend’s new grandchild, number four for him. He and his family are very pleased. I’m happy and excited because they’re happy and excited. It’s contagious stuff.
Didn’t sleep well, dealing with floofquests to go in and out, to be fed and petted, loved on and played with. They don’t want to recognize that I’m a day creature. “Come join us at night,” they urge.
“It’s dark and I can’t see,” I reply.
“Don’t worry, we’ll help you. Mind that hairball. It’s fresh.”
A bright moon was a break-out hit at one point. Outside with Papi, enjoying the fresh rain-enlivened air, Papi said, “See? There’s plenty of light. What is that over there? What the hell, I’m out of here.” He scurried back, leaving me standing there and staring, mumbling to myself, “What is it? I don’t see anything. Papi? Papi?”
I was also wringing hands over editing decisions and book directions, cursing my novel as a vile creature that needs to be buried. It’s all good, just the process. A looonnngggg process sometimes. Out of this, The Neurons have directed a song from the last century into the morning mental music stream. “Epic” by Faith No More was released in 1990. I was still assigned to Germany at the time, and the song was hugely popular with the troops rotating in as part of Desert Shield/Desert Storm. It was heard often and loud.
Here’s the music. Stay pos and enjoy Sunday as best as you can. I will. Sort of. Cheers.
Polyfloofdron (floofinition) – A collection of several animals doing activities, such as sleeping or nursing.
In use: “After eating, grooming, and playing, the dog, cat, and kittens came together as a polyfloofdron on a bench cushion in the fur-melting sun.”
Pawzer (floofinition) – Floof term for a large and powerful individual, essentially comparing them to a German Panzer tank from the WWII era.
In use: “Encountering Bruno, the big dog which the kittens were to live with, all reacted to the pawzer with spitting and hissing, claws drawn, daring him to come closer. Though Bruno looked like a pawzer, he was sweet and relaxed, settling on the floor. Within a short while, the cats were using him as a mountain to play.”
A one and a two.
Today is Groundhog Day in ‘Merica, which makes it Feb 2. It’s 2023, and Thursday.
Bright sunshine warming the house and beaming the windows bolstered my spirits. Flipping to another piece of weather script, winds shout and moan like football fans when there’s an interception. Current temp is 47 F but it feels like 43, with the sun and air lifting us up to 53 F later, which will probably feel like something else. 7:23 AM witnessed the sun’s breakthrough moment over Ashlandia. It’ll be 5:27 PM when the Earth’s action takes our sunshine away.
The Neurons are singing “My Baby Loves Lovin'” in the morning mental music stream. The pop hit hit when I was feeding the cats their kibble and sang, “My kitties love kibble,” as they chowed through the morning offering.
Looking up this song was required. I had a scant idea that it was released probably around 1970 but no idea who released it. Fortunately I have access to this thing called the web. It managed to produce facts that the song was released in 1970 by a Brit band called White Plains. Disagreement surrounds the lead vocalist. Was it Tony Burrow? I didn’t know the man’s name, but there are claims that he was lead vocalist for five different bands who had one number one song each. I’d never heard of this before. Besides this song, there were “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” by Edison Lighthouse in 1970; “Gimme Dat Ding” (1970) by the Pipkins; “Beach Baby” by the First Class, another 1970 hit; and “United We Stand” by the Brotherhood of Man, 1970. However, some of Burrow’s claims about his participation is doubted and seems exaggerated. He might be the George Santos of 1970 pop.
Coffee has touched down at my side. One cat is hovering close, reporting back to Floof HQ about my activities. The other has braved the wind for a secret meeting. Stay positive. Here’s the hit. Cheers
He liked creating games out of the things he did. Arriving at the coffee shop, he noted the parked cars. The game was, ‘Whose Car is This?’ He liked matching cars with the individuals inside.
Another regular game was Sock Toss when he put clothes away after the laundry was done. He had a .600 average.
The oddest game was probably sneak up on the cats. Tucker wasn’t included much any longer. He was old and slept deeply. Papi was his usual target, but the little ginger usually moved ears and lifted his head to smile at him before he was within three feet. Papi knew the game, and he always won.
6:37 Papi Standard Time. 22 degrees F. “Let me out,” the ginger floof bellows while prancing around on his tippy toes, tail up.
I walk along, explaining to the walls that it’s 22 degrees outside, too cold for Papi to go outside, but I open the door for him. Papi steps up, looks out, takes a breath, steps back. “Let’s try the front door,” Papi suggests. We do, just to satisfy him. Open-step up-breath-back in. “That’s not what I want,” Papi says. “Feed me.”
I feed him, along with Tucker, who is a savvy fellow and saw where this was going. Then I’m back to bed. See, I went through this once four hours earlier with Papi. Except he went out that time. Stayed out for almost twenty minutes before hammering the door for re-entry. He blasted through the house when I opened the door, living up to his nom de floof, Thunderpaws.
I, of course, went to the bathroom. My bladder said, since you’re up. Sure. Somewhere in there, The Neurons began singing “Lucretia MacEvil”.
Hello, Monday.
It’s January 30, 2023. 9 AM now, the temperatures has climbed the heights to 27 F. Other than the cold, it’s a fine sunny day, complete with blue sky, and frost free, too. Sunrise came at 7:26 AM and the turning away will remove sunshine from our visible range at 5:23 PM.
“Lucretia MacEvil” is a funky, brass dominated song by Blood, Sweat, and Tears, released in 1970. I have no idea why it’s circulating the morning mental music stream. I’d dreamed, yes. Women were featured, yes. But the dreams and women were all pleasant. Who knows the ways of The Neurons? Not I.
The ‘MacEvil’ part of the song’s title always puts me in mind of McDonald’s, right? I say ‘MacEvil’ and I have that little Micky D theme song follow it. I figure it must be some kind of adult meal. It’s not on the menu and you must know the code word to order it. It’s only sold to adults, and you must provide ID. Totally worth it, though, I imagine.
I have my coffee. Countdown has commenced. We’ll soon have liftoff. Stay positive. Happy Moanday. Here’s the mood music. Cheers
Floof Over Matter (Often abbreviated as FOM or F.O.M.) (floofinition) 1. Ad hoc policy that a household or organization’s care of animals is paramount.
In use: “He planned to make some changes in the house, but they were immediately terminated because of F.O.M., as his wife said, ‘You can’t do that. It’ll upset the cats and dogs.’ He could have argued that, but they’d been married over a quarter of a century. He understood floof over matter. It was only the floofs and their health and happiness who mattered most.”
2. Magic talents used by animals to make the impossible appear to happen.
In use: “She never understood how her cat got into the places which seemed impossible. Then she read a blog post about F.O.M. — Floof Over Matter — and began to understand that animals had powers which were beyond human comprehension.”
Michael Seidel, writer 