Tag: humor

Flooftivus

Flooftivus (floofinition) – annual secular holiday that housepets established to celebrate living with people. The holiday, observed over a nine-day period, is structured to include auspicious routines. These include days dedicated to vomiting, washing and grooming, napping, gorging, dashing around the dwelling, shedding hair, hiding, shredding objects, and being needy. The holiday culminates with a visit by Santa Paws, and the giving of gifts.

In use: “Although he loved his pets, he dreaded Floofivus. The Day of Vomiting was not fun, but The Giving of Gifts struck him as worse.”

 

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Floofowing

Floofowing (floofinition) – methodology used by housepets to follow or shadow people or other housepets, often to spy on them.

In use: “Movement from one area of the house to another always set up a floofowing. Sometimes the cats and dogs worked in teams, but it often seemed like one had the duty for a given period, and then was relieved by another.”

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Floofatorium

Floofatorium (floofintition) – a house or public building’s part where the housepets congregate.

In use: “With its cozy queen bed, three chairs, and a sliding door and windows that let in light, the guest room soon became the floofatorium during the day.”

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Bowling Pin

On some days, he feels like he’s a target, maybe a bowling pin, set up and knocked down. If that was so, someone would have to be setting him up and rolling the ball that knocks him down. He wonders, the gods don’t bowl, do they?

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The Real Time

Well, they’ve done it, they’ve changed their clocks, setting the time back an hour, “Falling back,” as they like to say in America.

It’s an easy task that he does before going to bed. He has five clocks to change. It’s amazing that the house has five clocks. One is mechanical and battery operated. The rest, on the thermostat, bedroom clock-radio, microwave, and stove, are electronic. Strange that they must be changed manually, but there you go. He confirms, while doing his task, that the guest room clock radio is unplugged. That’s to save energy. He smiles at that.

The household has four televisions. It’s a ridiculous number for a couple who spends a few hours with the TV at night, and always watch together. But there’s been a progression, so the older flat screen digital televisions find homes in the master and guest bedrooms. Neither room had a television before. Each television has time built into its systems. Software manages falling back for him. Same with the Fitbits, computers, tablets, VCR, and phones, but not the cars.

Time is everywhere. For days after going through the change, he thinks, “What is the real time? It’s actually really seven now.” He thinks about how this change affects the daylight, and the temperatures he endures, which affects how he dresses, and his daily plans. He likes the light arriving earlier but he misses the late day light.

He wonders, in the end, what the real time is. His body isn’t certain. One thing he notes: the cats admirably adjusted to the change.

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The Cat Food

He was in Walmart, a store that he detests and avoids, but here he was, because he was being supportive. While there, WTH, the thinking goes, look at the cat food offerings and prices to update his mental database of such things. This is mostly because the little cat is ill. Always a picky eater, his disease has exacerbated this, so cans are opened for the little feline to pick his way through. Some are more successful than others, but his usual favorites have been soundly rejected. New flavors are required.

So he’s in the aisle, examining prices and offerings beside a couple who are about fifteen years older than him (he thinks), making them in their late seventies. The woman says, “Chicken and waffle cat food.”

Before thinking can be processed, his mouth is engaged. “No way. Really? You have to be making that up.”

She points out the package and he examines it. The three agree, it’s an absurd idea. None of them are buying it,

They talk, of course, about their cats’ eating habits, and how all are picky eaters. The man relates a tale about one cat.

The man loves the shrimp he buys at Costco. So does the cat, who gets aggressive about it, trying to steal it out of his hand and off his plate when he’s eating. He gives the cat some, of course, because he’s a human, and the cat is in charge. Yes, clearly. We all know this.

But, here is the punch line. The cat won’t touch any cat food with shrimp in it.

“Figures,” the man says, walking away. “Cats, right?”

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Floofdoctrinate

Floofdoctrinate (floofinition) – to teach pet fundamentals or rudiments; to imbue with a partisan point of view or principle that favor housepets.

In use: “People argue that cats are better than dogs in floofdoctrinating humans about what is wanted and accepted.”

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Traffic Jam

As I was walking together, I developed a new game concept. I’d come across a small traffic jam. Traffic jams are rare in our little town. Most are small. Parades and school letting out are the usual problems.

But other places have traffic jams, which helped me develop (meaning, daydream about) my Traffic Jam game. Like Clue, the players move, but in this case, they move from corner to corner and street to street, collecting information and making guesses about what’s going on. In Traffic Jam, it would be stated as, “Don, in a gray Mini, stopping to make a right hand turn from the left hand lane.”

That’s all I got.

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Floofucate

Floofucate (floofintion) – give intellectual, moral, and social instruction about having housepets or being a housepet.

In use: “He’d never had a cat before, but the kitten soon floofucated him about cat rules.”

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The Secret Hour

We’ve voted in our house, and agree that we should have a secret hour – that extra one that doesn’t show up anywhere but in your sleep – every night. (Amusingly, it’s called setting the clocks back to conceal the deal the Feds made with the Time Fairies.)

The vote was unanimous and not a surprise that the cats all voted for it. We had to wake them up to vote. As Papi summarized, “If it’s food or sleeping, I’m all for it.”

We know better than to actually advocate for a secret hour every night. There are dangers associated with having the Time Fairies come each night to give you the extra hour. One, your time isn’t infinite. Those hours come from somewhere.

Two, and more worrying, for every hour they give you, the Time Fairies own you more.

Most worrying of all, the Time Fairies are thin-skinned and petty. They’re wont to go for revenge at the slightest perceived insult. You must be careful not to piss them off.  I’m sure you’ve seen some of their victims, listless as they wander around, craving sleep that will not come, not able to die because it’s not their time, but without the energy to do anything, because the Time Fairies own their time.

 

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