Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Bountflooeous (floofinition) – Giving freely to animals or disposed to give to animals.
In Use: “Brenden established himself as a bountflooeous individual before he was five years old, feeding any dog, cat, squirrel, or bird who came along.”
In Use: “Martin was bountflooeous, driving around his town every day to provide food and water to stray cats and dogs, earning their trust, getting them medical help, and finding them homes. Locals nicknamed him The Animal Guy.”
Floofrational (floofinition) Having an understanding or reasonable insight into animal thinking. Origins: Early 1920s western Pennsylvania.
In Use: “Many people believe they’re floofrational but often can’t explain why animals like or choose specific people.”
In Use: “Although Emi thought she understood her dog after living with him for three years, sometimes he began barking for no reason and wouldn’t stop, undermining her floofrational thinking.”
Monufloofal (floofinition) 1. A huge, or ginormous (relative to its species) animal. Origins: late twentieth century Internet.
In Use: “Col Sanders (named for where he was found and rescued but often called Jumbo) was monufloofal, and when he slept with people, he seemed to double in size, rendering laps numb, and taking up all the space wherever he slumbered.”
2. A highly significant or important animal. Origins: early twenty-first century world wide web.
In Use: “Ol’ Jax was an undersized Jack Russell to most people, but Ol’ Jax was a monufloofal aspect of the homeless vet’s street existence.”
Floofsent (floofinition) – A state where animals won’t give or will withold approval or agreement, leaving others frustrated and confused; an ambivalent response by an animal caused by conflicting messages with their environment or memories. Origins: United States, early twenty-first century, Internet.
In Use: “One challenge many humans encounter is the animal concept of floofsent, in which they’ll display intentions to agree or accomodate what is being proposed while also demonstrating that something is bothering them.”
In Use: “The eminent floofologist, I.M. Thunken, believes that floofsent is a state animals encounter while trying to address mixed messages their superior senses are communicating to them, or issues of trust generated by their memories.”
Recent Use: “The injured stray dog wanted to trust the people but his floofsent was in turmoil as he confronted his rescuers and felt vibrations reminiscent of his recent tormentors.”
Comfloofible (floofinition) – Capable of getting along with animals. Origins: 15th century Middle Floofish.
In Use: “Modern animals living in close proximity to humans have developed sophisticated instincts to find comfloofible humans , and their efforts have significantly helped reduce animal abuse.”
In Use: “Whenever animals find people who seem comfloofible, they shower the individuals with trust and affection, welcoming their touch.”
Recent Use: “The neglected dog, freed from abusive former owners, stayed withdrawn until just the right people entered and tested high on the comfloofible scale; then he was ready to leave and go home with someone.”
Mood: committed
Thursday, October 19, 2023, slid into its slot. Indian summer has re-commenced in Ashlandia, where the battles over how to help the homeless still rage.
With a sky full of sunshine and a wind full of promise, it’s 72 F right now. Forecasters assure us that our temperature will achieve the low to mid 80s today, a solid complement to the blue sky and fall foliage.
Had a stray cat encounter at home last night. I saw something wink past the front door windows. Investigation was demanded.
I opened the portal to see. In trotted a white and gray cat. An orange splash marked their back like an island in that white sea while its thick, bushy white tail waved like a friendly neighbor.
The cat seemed healthy and friendly. Without a mew, it worked through the house, exploring everything. Some nibbles of kibble were taken. A lengthy investigation of the kitty litter zone followed.
We were concerned. Was this cat lost or cast off? I’d never seen the cat in our neighborhood. That’s limited in how meaningful that is, because I have a limited view of the street and general area. It’s also possible that the cat lived in one of the nearby residences and never got out, but now had, and was confused.
Anyway, we couldn’t keep them. Our male cats barely tolerate one another. They never tolerate any outside cats. The sole exception to that was the late Pepper. A dark tortie, she carried herself with a majesty that asserted royal privilege. She also didn’t hesitate to hiss and swat, should any other feline venture too close. Pepper seemed to make peace with all, eventually; I used to find her and Tucker sleeping side by side on the front porch. I’ve never seen Tucker do that with another floof.
It’s odd to me that Tucker and Papi don’t get along. After all, they actually co-existed with three other cats for several years. When Tucker came, Scheckter was approaching the Rainbow Bridge. We still had Lady and Quinn. Sweet Boo, an onyx shorthair with a white star on his chest, then came along, a stray in need. I searched for his home and people without success, so he joined as a stray in residence.
Papi next joined, and that’s how the family stood for a while until Lady, Quinn, and Boo were each taken. So, I thought that Papi and Tucker were okay and even hoped that they would become friendlier.
Well, flooftente was achieved but they still issue threats and warnings to each other. Happened just the day before yesterday; Papi stepped up behind Tucker and leisurely sniffed over Tucker’s tail and rear. Tucker turned to reciprocate, sending Papi into a yowling, hissing frenzy, like, “Oh, no, he’s going to sniff me.”
So the sweet stray couldn’t be put up. We did set up a bed for them on the front porch and fed it again. The food needed to be brought in because outside pet food invites other creatures: skunks, raccoons, coyotes, foxes. The smell of food might attract one of the bears or cougars who roam our neighborhood. So, very, very reluctantly, we let the cat stay out, hating it all the way.
I posted about the cat on social media last evening but haven’t had a response. They haven’t been spied today. I hope they’re alright; I hope they’re safely home. I put food and water out for them on the front porch, in case they return, and let the boys out into the backyard.
I will also note that Papi returned from his morning patrol at about eight AM. He may have encountered the stray and chased them away. That’s Papi’s style.
While tending the stray last night, I picked up Tucker after he started after the stray. Hugging, kissing, stroking him, reassuring him that he wasn’t being replace, I told Tucker, “You need to stay calm.”
Picking up on that, The Neurons began playing Taylor Swift’s 2019 song, “You Need To Calm Down”. Without surprise, I can report that it’s continued playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark disputable). That’s how the MMMS generally works: once a song is in there, if stays until another song displaces it.
I do like the message out of “You Need to Calm Down”. The song’s message of people acting out in hate because of others’ genders when they’re not binary, or their choices of pronouns, or sexual orientation is exactly as needed. Too many people — many who seem to be right-wing — have gone over the top in their need and eagerness to deny others the freedom and right to be who they are. Right-wingers blast anyone who is not cisgender with surreal claims about how children are prey, or how the emergence of people who identify themselves under the umbrella of LGBTQ+ are destroying the world.
Witness, as a prominent example, Florida, led by Ron Desantis, and their absurd “Don’t Say Gay” law.
‘The bill’s sponsors have emphatically stated that the bill would not prohibit students from talking about their LGBTQ families or bar classroom discussions about LGBTQ history, including events like the 2016 deadly attack on the Pulse nightclub, a gay club in Orlando. Instead, they argue that the bill would bar the “instruction” of sexual orientation or gender identity.
‘But the text says both.’
Stay pos, be strong, and remain calm. I’m having coffee, which should sustain my efforts to do the same. Here’s the music. Carpe Thursday. Cheers
I have two cats, Tucker and Quinn. Each choose our house. Quinn came half a dozen years plus ago. I was out a cold winter December midnight, calling my cats, the late memorable Scheckter, and Lady. Quinn rushed over. He clearly belonged to someone. We put up posters, they came, claimed him, and took him home. He came back to us. Again, and again. The charade ended after a few months. We were his. They since moved away without him.
Tucker showed up sick and injured a few years ago. He’s black and white, and was dirty, with infections. I fed him, providing him water, shelter, a place to sleep, checking on him. Once trust was established, he entered the house. I searched for his people. He wasn’t chipped and nobody was looking for him. Posters brought no seekers. We took him to the vet and treated his issues. He was neutered, has gained weight and is now a handsome boy.
Cat number three…came to us last fall. I called him Stubby. A black beauty with a white chest triangle, he had no tail, just a stump. He’s clearly been abused by his reactions to feet and hands. My wife renamed him Boo Radley. I searched for Boo’s owners. No one hunted him but he was clearly a house cat, and expected us to serve him. We fed him, ensured he had water and a place to sleep. Then winter hit…. You’ve seen this movie. You know the plot.
Fourth is Meep. Meep is the Orange Prince, a little blade of a cat, and so sweet. Meep belongs to the people who live behind us. Here are the points about Meep.
Meep has mites. He has terrible mites. Glances into his ears confirmed it, and they gave him huge issues. Raw scratches around and behind the ears ensued. Naturally, we had to clean his ears and start him on miticide. Our treatment of his situation changed his treatment of us. He used to bound into our house, tail up, raging with purrs and meows. Now he became wary. Cautious.
He even avoided coming into the house.
Despite losing his trust, we persevered. It wasn’t fun, becoming a perceived threat, but it was better for him that it be done. We cleaned his ears and treated him for three days, and then stopped to assess, continuing to clean, when we could get him to let us. That became tougher as he kept his distance.
Last evening, as always, he was sleeping in an unused grow box in our back yard. It was time for his feeding so I opened the back door and called. He arose, crossed the patio and stopped. Sitting down ten feet away, he watched me with sad golden eyes.
I lowered myself onto the ground at the door and put out a hand. I usually call him by the name we’ve given him, Meep, but last night, I blinked my eyes at him and called, “Here, kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.” Softly, softly, again, and again, and again.
He rose. Stretched. Looked around. Raised his tail. Sauntered over. Paused on the threshold. Looked around again. Stepped in. Pressed himself against my arms and sides. Released a squeaky purr. I closed the door. He escorted me to his guest room, and I fed him.
He returned this morning, came in and ate, and promptly came in this evening. We resumed his treatment this evening. This time, he accepted it with little complaint and didn’t race away. His tail was straight up until it curved into a question at the end.
We feel he’s recognized that whatever we were doing made him feel better, and so he’s forgiven us, and trust us once again. I appreciate that he trusts us, since he’s not our cat.
Tucker and Quinn were on the desk asleep beside me as I typed this. Then Meep and Boo got into it in the back yard. T & Q rose up to investigate and I went out to separate and placate.
Cats have always liked me. My wife calls me the cat whisperer. Cats love to visit me, quickly making themselves comfortable on my desk, my lap, my chairs, my patio. There was Grace, Alexander, Scratchy and Blur. All belonged to neighbors but could be readily found at my house all hours of the day and night.
I could tell you about Pepper, who sleeps on our porch and cries for food (which I give her), but she’s not our cat, belonging to the person next store. I could mention Buddy, the small black who visits me when I check the mail or do yard work. He lives across the street. Sketch, a gray and white neighborhood newcomer, could be mentioned, as his people have discovered that he likes it around my yard. I try not to get too friendly or familiar with Pepper, Sketch and Buddy.
I have two cats.
I don’t need more.
Michael Seidel, writer 