Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofbitis (floofinition) – Faked illness brought on by an animal’s behavior.
In use: “She called her friend and told her that she couldn’t go out because she had a flare of floofbitis. After disconnecting, she scratched her dog’s head as he slept on her lap, nibbled a piece of gouda, sipped a little Merlot, and resumed reading the latest Louise Penney novel.”
Dynfloofsy (floofinition) – Powerful group or family of animals that maintains a prominent position for a considerable time.
In use: “Although they had three large male dogs and two large male cats, Jade and her female successors established a dynfloofsy, decreeing they controlled laps, food bowls, and the best sleeping places. Just a look from one of them enforced their royal edicts.”
Sisyfloofean (floofinition) – Task involving an animal requiring continual and often ineffective effort.
In use: “She always railed against where the cats should not be — the kitchen counters, the dining room table, the living room sofa and chairs — but keeping them off of these floofboten areas was a Sisyfloofean challenge.”
Baby, I’m thunderfoot
Always underfoot
making it hard for you to
move your foot
loving your foot
sleeping on your foot
licking your toes and
biting your foot
leaving drool on your foot
and chasing your foot
making you dance to keep me
from your foot
cause I’m thunderfoot
always underfoot
just another playful
floofy foot
Flooflympic Games (floofinition) – Panfloofic festival held every fourth year, made up of sports, music, story-telling, and other contests, with the victor’s prize a crown of treats.
In use: “Rex was a Flooflympic Games champion three times over, taking top honors in the bed jump, treat begging, and sad eyes competitions.”
He held his breath. Listened. Turned toward the sound. Looked for escape. Too late.
Sounds increased. Growling. Snarling.
Zombie.
A hiding place was needed.
Nothing was in the room.
Weapon, then. A defense.
Twisting, he crashed through the kitchen, jerking open drawers, pawing through contents. Snarling became a roar. The zombie burst in and rushed him.
Grabbing his coffee mug, he spun. “Here. Coffee.” His hand shook as he held out the steaming cup.
The zombie stopped. Accepted the mug. Breathed in the aroma. Took a sip. Sighed.
“Thanks.”
Turning, she shuffled out with muted growls.
Michael Seidel, writer 