Horofloof
Horofloof (floofinition) – Animal’s sense of time, ability to maintain a schedule, and their associated method of tracking time.
In use: “Humans are often amazed by their pet’s horofloof, especially when dogs go to the door to greet their returning people. Scientists speculate that this might be because dogs note that their people’s smell has faded. Animals, however, know that as an amusing theory; their minds are attuned to the cosmic view that lets them see beyond the immediate moment.”
Prefloofpitation
Prefloofpitation (floofinition) – Moisture thrown off by an animal.
In use: “Coming in from outside with a snow covered back, the dog shook, filling the room with prefloofpitation.”
Door Floof
Door Floof (floofinition) – Animal obsessed with doors.
In use: “Tucker could not stand a closed door. Pantry, front, closet, the door floof liked to stand beside whatever closed door he encountered and demand the door be opened for him to look within. What humans didn’t understand was that he was checking for invaders from other dimensions. He didn’t want to do it, but it was his duty.”
The Snow Effect
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…
Replaced
The royal clowder summoned him to a meeting by the front door. The first floof said, “The weather outside is cold.” The second added, “It’s wet,” and the third went on, “And windy.”
“This must be stopped,” the first finished. “Fix it.”
“I can’t fix it,” the human replied. “I have no control over the weather, guys.”
Cat tails swished. “Silence,” the first floof roared. “If you can’t do it, we’ll replace you with someone who can.”
The three cats stalked off as the man laughed and shouted, “Go ahead and try.”
“Oh, we will,” the floofs replied. “We will.”
Failure
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.
Michael Seidel, writer 