Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Kafloof (catfinition) – to be utterly defeated by a cat.
In use: “Every time he sat down to type, his small black and white cat stretched out on his keyboard with a green-eyed look that asked, “What are you going to do now?” His answer was to sigh. He knew his goal to do some writing was kafloof.”
Flooftrap (catfinition) – means by which a feline captures humans, stops them from walking, or keeps them from moving.
In use: “Bo’s favorite flooftrap is to lay down on someone’s foot.”
Floof de suite (catfinition) – a feline demand for something right now, right away, or immediately.
In use: “Rising up on her back legs, she patted the woman’s leg and urgently meowed, demonstrating that she smelled the cat food and wanted it floof de suite.”
Floofbris (catfinition) – a feline’s exaggerated sense of what it can do because it’s a cat.
In use: “The big dog approached the tiny cat and gave a loud bark. Full of floofbris, the little gray cat put up its tail, hissed, and hopped forward and sideways toward the dog. Startled by the little feline’s advance, the dog jumped back, its eyes wide.”
Floofligence (catfinition) – the ability to learn or understand cats, often listed as floofligence quotient, which is also sometimes shortened to floof-q, or F.Q.
In use: “Thanks to being raised in a household where cats of all ages were fostered and socialized, his floof-q was among the highest that other people had ever witnessed, giving him a unique ability to empathize with cats and earning him the nickname, the Floof Whisperer.”
Floofacity (catfinition) – the quality or state of being feline.
In use: “Flash and Ashley ruled with such implacable floofacity, people’s worship of cats as deities was easily understood.”
Someone asks for the time. You look at a timepiece. It’s 10:28. Do you say, “It’s almost ten thirty,” “It’s ten twenty-eight,” “It’s about half-past ten,” or “It’s about ten thirty?”
Or do you say, “Zulu or local?”
“Mew,” he said in his soft, sweet, voice. “Mew.” He rubbed his furry body against my calf and looked up with dark, imploring eyes. “Mew.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll open another can for you. Please eat it this time.”
I opened the can and spooned contents into a bowl. As I did, the cat celebrated with low purring and sharper, louder mews. I put the bowl down on the floor. “Here you go,” I said.
The cat stepped up to the bowl, but stopped several inches short of it. Leaning forward, he sniffed, and then he looked up at me with hurt sadness.
Turning away from me and the bowl of food, he made three strokes with one front paw, miming covering the food like he was burying his scat. As he did, he gave me a side-glance that whispered, “You are so disappointing.”
Then, bushy tail high and waving like a flag in a light breeze, he trotted away.
Michael Seidel, writer 