Tag: pet door

Saturda’s Theme Music

Papi and I weren’t synced this morning. At some ridiculously early hour, he banged on the pet door. I let him in. He thundered through the house in a burst of spring energy. I stumbled back to bed.

Minutes later, he thumped to come back in. The pet door was on because of smoke. Controlled burning was the smoke source. Controlled burning is a lot like vaccinations. There’s some immediate reaction but benefits to doing it are established.

I took the pet door off and let Papi back in. He returned within minutes, banging to come back in. I talked to the floof about it. Showed him the door was off and the pet door was open. Reminded him how it worked. He galloped away as I was speaking.

So went Saturda’s dawn stage on May 10, 2025, for me in Ashlandia. A cooling trend has been embraced. Dropping our high to 79 F today. It’s 71 F and sunny now. Visibility for a long way and more. Clouds are negotiating with the blue skies and sunshine. I’m unfamiliar with their negotiating skills, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.

Anyway, after that, I hung in bed for a while, revisiting a dream. Papi kept coming back to see if I was going to provide him fresh food and affection. While I finally acfloofesced to his antics, a song started playing in the morning mental music stream.

“Bang on the Drum All Day” is by Todd Rundgren. Came out in 1983. It’s a lively and happy song about the urge not to work. Don’t know if you’ve ever had that urge. It had a strong grip on me today. Probably because my sleep was floofrupted.

More stories about Trump’s United States are emerging. How ’bout those Newark airport radar failures? That’s some reassuring shit. Fits right in with the trend of increasing aircraft accidents. Many more accidents than in last year. So air travel was safer under President Biden. To channel my inner Trump’s voice, “Air travel is a LOT WORSE with TRUMP as President!!! This could be the GREATEST year for DEADLY plane crashes than ANY TIME in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD!!!” An ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers doesn’t alleviate MY worries about air travel in ‘Merica.

But, PINO Trump’s Regime is on it! Yes, the team that fired people and then rehired them because they found out they needed them is going to hire more air traffic controllers. Gonna supercharge the system, they claim. This is being brought to you by the same regime with Defense Secretary Hegseth giving away secrets on unsecured systems. The same gang who declares NOBODY IS ABOVE THE LAW while they elevate PINO Trump to a position ABOVE THE LAW. Same folks who think empty ports are great because then we’ll lose less money! Same people destroying the national parks system created through decades of work by people from both parties. Yes, tattoo me as cynical, but I don’t think that Trump Regime is up to fixing the air travel problems.

Coffee has engaged The Neurons. We now return to our normal programming. Hope it all goes well for you today, tomorrow, and so on. Here we go again. Cheers

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Munda’s Theme Music

Cold spring night ended with sunshine breaking apart the clouds like Jesus taking on the money changers. Blue sky smile down on us. Sunshine is tasked with warming us to 68 F, up from 46.

Papi likes having the pet door back on. He’s resumed his unique style. A paw is inserted into the space betwixt the flap and its flame. He pulls the flap toward him to enlarge a space. Then he sticks his head through. Creeps on in. Seeing me watching, he pauses. Confirms who I am. Greetings are exchanged. He comes on for some pets, treats, and cat nip. A little later, he reverses course. Heads for the sunny backyard.

But. A but always crops up. In this but, Papi still beats on the back door. Even though the pet door is open. I have applied some erratic noodling to it. I believe that the beating is his communication system. Like drums or smoke signals.

Papi sending smoke signals. Alarm inducing idea.

Papi was telling me that he wanted his water dish refilled and outside. I’ve pulled it in at night. Don’t want to encourage other wildlife to hang around. I’ve set up a water bowl for them in another area of the yard, around in the front, away from the doors. Papi detests drinking water in the house. Likes drinking it outside. We all have our foibles.

On to politics. Ugh. No. Full coffee saturation is required before I go there today.

All kinds of music occupy the morning mental music stream. Like rock concert going on in there. First up in heavy rotation was the Animals with “House of the Rising Sun.” Brought on by seeing the sunshine rising, brightening, filing the world, including our house. Then there was Chris Isaak. “Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing”. That was in response to some news article I read. Next came Aerosmith. “Walk This Way.” That came after my wife returned from her exercise class. I was reading, thinking, gaming. Wasting away the hours that make up a slow day. I finally said, “I got to get moving but my get up and go seems to have got up and went.”

So here is my morning mental music stream. Brought to you by The Neurons. The Neurons: when you don’t know what to think.

I enjoyed watching and listening to this video of The Animals. It brought back elements of another time and delivered smiles to me. Hope you find it the same, seeing those young individuals and the more primitive conditions of television and pop culture.

Listening to Chris Isaak has been tarnished by a “Friends” episode that featured Isaak as a guy dating Phoebe. He sings a few high notes. She starts laughing.

Coffee is at hand. Time to coffee up and go be me. You go be you. Let’s do the best we can. Come on, let’s walk this way. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Made it to June — June, when a young man’s fancy lightly turns to — well, that depends on the young man. We’re all different you know. Some ask, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Now that I’ve reached June, I’ve set my sights on July. As was said in the military on performance reviews, “Set low goals and failed to achieve them.” A cynic’s coven, they were.

Sunrise was about 5:30 on the AM side of the day and the setting part will be on the B side after 8:30. Temperatures for the nocturnal portion dipped into the mid 40s F but we’ve strutted into the low 60s by now, making our way to the low 80s in Ashlandia. How do you describe a sky this blue, not smudge by dust, smoke, or cloud, just sun-kissed and beckoning?

This, ladies and germs, is Friday, June 2, 2023.

Re-installed the pet door last night for Papi’s use. T’was removed for the winter. Some trepidation clings to the decision. Cougar, you know, seen in these parts. Well, there are several ranging our town’s streets and yards. Wife suggested, “Put the pet door back on so that you can get some sleep.”

“Cougar?” I responded, a one word summary of the six sentences said to remind her of her worries about a cougar getting Papi.

“This will give him an escape route. He can run in through the pet door if he gets scared.”

Sure, in a perfect world, I didn’t answer. That assumes Papi lounges around the back yard, close to him, instead of chasing moonbeams around the block. It also assumes that Tucker doesn’t passive-aggressively sleeps in front of the pet door, blocking it. Whatever. I am like water.

Today’s song is a product of glancing at the TV and seeing something. That something — I don’t know what it was — prompted The Neurons to select Dire Straits and “Lady Writer” (1979) from the memory bins and play it through the night. It still plays in the morning mental music stream, a classic DS sound to me. Catchy tune, upbeat, with intriguing words. Hope it stirs something for you.

Speaking of stirring, I’m stirring to get some java. The coffee low level light is blinking, and a top-off is the cure. Stay pos and bounce into the weekend, wherever your are and doing. Here are the lads and the song.

Cheers

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Floofport

Floofport (floofinition) – 1. Act of carrying a housepet; 2. Mode of one pet carrying another, such as a mother carrying her young; 3. Slang reference to a pet door.

In use: “Floofporting a kitten in her mouth, the momma cat prepared to leave via the floofport, pushing the woman to rush over, pick the two up, and floofport them back into the other room where she’d set a box up for the new feline family.”

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