Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A man and his companion sat down with their dogs on the coffee house porch. Both people had pastries which they sat down on the table. The dog immediately went for that.
“No, Curry,” the man said, lightly touching the dog. “Come on. Make good decisions.”
I laughed to myself. I bet the dog thought that going for the food was a good decision.
Memfloofesis (floofinition) Term which describes the impression that an animal reminds others of another animal. Origins: first described in “The Floofilogues of Floofto”, circa 400 BC.
In Use: “When Pandora joined the household, memfloofesis arose among the other housefloofs that the new black floof was uncannily like their old black mate, Sugar, starting with how silent Pandora was to how they ate and slept on their back with their legs in the air. The memfloofesis was such that they were sure Sugar had come back to them, which made all very happy.”
Noctrol (floofinition) – Floofterally, ‘nocturnal patrol’, a phrase employed by animals in reference to activities done between sunset and sunrise. Origins: 1600s, early middle Floofish.
In Use: “Spunk entered the house after her humans finally answered her summons and opened the door. Excited by all she’d seen on her notrol, she chatted to them, but all they did was tell her how sweet she was and feed her.”
In Use: “During his noctrol, Austin Powers witnessed Mark leave bed and quietly go to the kitchen, open the refrigerator and get out leftover pizza. Knowing Mark was on a diet, Austin Powers quietly joined him, demonstrating again that floofgilance pays off.”
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Finally, a reason to smile.
Floofkensian (floofinition) – Originating with or reminiscent of an animal. Origins: Charles Dickens, English Novelist, 1858, “A Tale of Three Kitties”.
In Use: “Floofkensian habits often endured for Jerry long after his floof’s departure, such as looking for them when he woke up in the morning or came home from work or shopping. Years passed before he finally and totally shed those habits.”
In Use: “Dickens left his mark on the household. By the time the rescue puppy passed away, floofkensian routines like afternoon walks, sharing food with the housefloofs, and sleeping with a furry warm body against you was firmly entrenched.”
Floofrimonialism (floofinition) – Form of rule among, over, or by animals based on favoritism. Origins: Max Floofer (Floofconomy and Floofciety, 1920)
In Use: “When it came to the animals, they all recognized that Sharon was in charge, and floofrimonialism soon became evident; the animals paid little attention to what Geoff said, while flooftowing to all of Sharon’s commands.”
In Use: “Sam and Dave practiced floofrimonialism and didn’t allow anyone except their chosen people to pet or touch them.”
Well, I suppose I would compare myself to common, lowly housefloofs. Basically, a floof is an animal, bird, fish, or reptile. A housefloof is then one of those critters living with humans, even if their accomodations aren’t an actual ‘house’.
I say that I’m a housefloof based on my observations of housefloofs residing with me. Those were cats and dogs. My typical housefloofs were creatures of comfort who enjoyed lazing in sunshine, periodically apparently thinking themselves into a doze. This is something which I also do, although I’ll often have a book in my hand and will read myself into a doze. I have seen animals with books, newspapers, and magazines; they enjoy sleeping on them. I’ve yet to witness any housefloof holding a book. I suppose they could be waiting until I’m not around to pick up a book. They do the same with my computer, logging on when I’m not using it, trying to order themselves things from the net. How else can some of the things delivered to our door be explained?
The other thing about housefloofs which I’ve noticed which cements my comparison to one of ’em is their interest in food. They can be sound asleep — or so convincingly pretending to be that I can’t tell they’re awake — when a can, bag, or refrigerator is opened. Then, pop! Their eyes open. They sit up and look up, orienting their senses with precision: “I hear food; there it is.” Some are so adept at this, they react to the sound, leap up, and dash to the food before awakening. I swear, one cat became so good at this whole thing that she picked up our intentions to get something to eat and was there to greet us when we entered the kitchen.
I can honestly say that I’m quite like those housefloofs. I hear the ‘frig open or a bag. Click; hello, what’s that noise? I seek out my other to see, “What are you eating? What do you have?” And like my housefloofs, I’ll sometimes try to surreptitiously seize a share and scurry away.
Sometimes, though, like the housefloofs, I’m disappointed by the result, and sulk away to resume my previous activity.
Floofogenarian (floofinition) – An older person with an animal or animals. Origins: First known use in 1744.
In Use: “The Railroad District was a serious of very square blocks of houses built in the 1930 filled with floofogenarians who shared their homes with cats and dogs.”
My wife was stewing. “Papi changed his routine today. For some reason, he suddenly wanted outside at 4:22, more than two hours before his usual time. I don’t know what’s going on but there he was, scratching on the door, yipping at me because he couldn’t wake you up.”
Between us, I had been awakened but ignored the floofcas Papi was causing because I didn’t want to get up.
I thought of the reasons why Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, changed his hours. May have been a bowel movement thing. Papi prefers to use the outdoors as his toilet, frequenting the area by the fence behind the bushes.
But, him being a cat, perhaps he heard noises outside and felt a need to investigate. Conversely, maybe he realized the noises were coming from inside the house and decided that the outside was safer.
Other ideas are possible. Flooflight savings time may have kicked in. From what I understand from floofotologists, floofs are notoriously independent about FST. Each decides when they’ll switch over — or if they won’t switch at all. Often, though, once one floof changes to FST, other housefloofs do the same. After all they don’t want to miss out by falling an hour behind their floofmate, cause food. They’d rather get up an hour early rather than missing out on food.
I can respect that.
So we chug into Fridaz, Feb. 21, 2025. Blue sky has it over my views of Ashlandia. Plentiful sunshine pelts the scene with rays. It’s 32 F with mid 50s likely, ‘they’ say.
All that is my perspective. Per habit, I inquire of the weather for us from Alexa. It says it’s 40 degrees. Tells me about the fog. ? Says it’ll be mostly cloudy today.
What we have here is some kind of failure of something. Maybe it’s in a different reality; perhaps I am. Or Alexa landed in a different Ashland. There’s a bunch of ’em in America. Or…since she’s Amazon…and Jeff Bezos…and he’s getting along so well with Trusk…Alexa is trying to gaslight me. Ah, such possibilities to contemplate on a Fridaz morning.
Oatmeal with blueberries are being consumed. A Chicago song is going through my morning mental music stream. “You’re My Inspiration.” You know the words:
You’re the meaning in my life
You’re the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life
You’re the inspiration
Wanna have you near me
h/t to Genius.com
I figure The Neurons are calculating and channeling emotions about Tucker’s passing. Seems logical, right? But, The Neurons are not always logical. Then again, neither are emotions. Hell, neither is life.
The music certainly didn’t come from my dreams. They were trippy. I’ll almost certainly write a post about one of them later. It’s ‘almost certainly’ because it’s a busy day planned. So, it’s a time permitting thing. Then again, there’s not a general call for more of my dreams, nor is there a time limit. It’s not like someone sent me memo, “Post about a dream by Fridaz.” If they did, I didn’t receive the memo. I guess I should check my spam and junk mail, see if it didn’t get ditched there.
Coffee and I are doing the morning tango. Hope you have a solid day, and things begin looking and getting better for all of us. Here’s the 1984 music, fresh out of a recording made in 1992. Papi the ginger blade (aka Meep, Butter Butt) has arrived for his morning cuddle session. Gotta go. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 