Word: edentate

 

edentate

[ ee-den-teyt ]

adjective

1. belonging or pertaining to the Edentata, an order of New World mammals characterized by the absence of incisors and canines in the arrangement of teeth and comprising the armadillos, the sloths, and the South American anteaters.
2. toothless.

 

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The cat was ugly. Her fur was matted and patchy. One of her ears was split nearly in half. She was missing one eye. And, when she opened her mouth, it was revealed that she was completely toothless. And she was exactly what Beth was looking for. 

According to the papers attached to the cat’s enclosure, her name was Ophie, and she was a 10-year-old tortie. Beth only really cared about the name though. The age was irrelevant, and the color was obvious. She held a hand to one of the openings in the clear plastic enclosure. Ophie’s whole ear twitched and her one eye looked at Beth. Then the cat came up and sniffed the human’s hand. Beth slipped a finger into the far too small enclosure. The cat sniffed it more and then rubbed the side of her mouth against it. 

Beth’s heart practically melted right then and there. She called over one of the shelter employees, and young man whose name tag read ‘Jeff.’ 

“Yes? Something I can do for you?” Jeff asked. 

“I think I’d like to have some time with this one.” 

“Ah, Ophie, huh? Good choice. She’s a real sweetheart. It’s a shame there’s such a hard time adopting her.” Jeff said as he opened the enclosure.  

Beth held out her hand for the cat to sniff. She rubbed her rough, matted fur against Beth. The woman gently lifted the cat, who did not seem to have the slightest issue with it. In fact, when Beth brought Ophie to her chest, the cat dug right in for some quality cuddles. Beth’s smile was wide enough that it threatened to split her face in half. 

“Okay, yeah, I don’t care about anything else. I’m definitely adopting her.” Beth said, rubbing that cat at the base of her neck.  

“Really? That’s great.” Jeff said. “There was some real concern about her not being adoptable. She...not the prettiest cat around.” 

“I know. That’s one of the reason’s I’m adopting her.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“I came in here fully planning to adopt at least two cats that nobody else will. Ophie here is one of them, now I just need to find another. So yeah, point me to another that wouldn’t get adopted otherwise.” 

“Really? You mean it?” Jeff asked, wide eyed. 

“Yup. In my old home, I used to volunteer at a shelter. It was tiny. Way smaller than this one. And it always bothered me that everyone always wanted to adopt the younger cats, or the best-looking cats. It was all so superficial. All cats deserve love. Back then, I wasn’t in a position to adopt. Now I am.  So, I’m going home with at least two cats that nobody else will consider.”  

“Well then, I have one that’s perfect. I’ll show you Avocado. He’s a standard grey tabby who...didn’t have the nicest life before coming here. He doesn’t really like others, either human or cat. But I bet in the right home, he’ll warm up to you.” 

“Perfect. And I bet this little lady here will be a big help on that front as well.” Beth said, rocking her new feline companion. 

Ophie looked at her new human and opened her toothless mouth and gave a tiny mew. Beth liked to think that was her way of agreeing with her idea.

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All cats deserve love, even the ugly and unpleasant ones. Remember, if you want a cat, either go to your local shelter or adopt one off the street. Fancy breeds are all well and good, but there's nothing like the love a street cat can show for the nice human who gave them shelter.

Word: Ramiform

 

ramiform

[ ram-uh-fawrm ]

adjective

1. having the form of a branch; branchlike.
2. branched.

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               The campground was filled with children. A handful of adults struggled to keep them from going off into the woods. It was not a particularly dangerous place, being a well used campground, but it would be very easy for the kids of get lost and wander too far away.

               The kids went in all different directions. Some wanted to go exploring. Others wanted to find the nearest place to swim. Others wanted to start a campfire to toast marshmallows, despite it being the middle of the day.

               There was so much going on that nobody noticed the old man wander in until he was already in the middle of the large clearing. He was dressed in robes that looked to be made of bark and vines. His boots were thick and worn. And he had twigs and leaves in his hair in a wild mess that did not seem so chaotic when looked at close enough. In his hand he held a large staff. It was completely straight, save for the top. It seemed like a miniature tree, with a myriad of small, bare branches growing out of the knob at the top.

               The man raised the staff a small amount and brought it down. A silent pulse of something radiated out. Nobody could tell what had happened, but they all knew something had. Even the youngest and most energetic child stopped and turned to the old man. The camp councilors went to approach the stranger, aiming to find out what he wanted. The man spoke before anyone else.

               “The forest has felt a presence. A new keeper has been chosen. One of you gathered here, in this false wilderness. I shall bring this one to the true wilds, where they shall be taught the old ways. The true ways. For the rest of you, you can carry on as you always have. Now, who here can see the true form of my staff?”

               The old man held the staff in front of him and waited. Nobody said anything. His worn brow wrinkled even more than it already was.

               “Ah. I see. None of you know what this staff is. To most, it will appear as a normal thing. Little more than a walking stick with an unusual head. But to one chosen by the forest, it will appear as much more. To one such as that, it will be a thing alive. Now, which among you sees it as such?”

               This time one of the smallest children took a few small, hesitant steps forward. The adults tried to stop the child, but the old man waved them away.

               “What do you see boy?”

               “I see it has a bunch of weird leaves and things like little light bugs on it. And there’s a few little berries and stuff.” The boy said quietly.

               The old man nodded. “Very good. Very good indeed. Hm, but you are quite small. How old are you?”

               “I’m six.”

               “Ah, I see. Too young still. You still need your parents to tend to you. Hm. Very well. As it is too soon yet, I shall leave without you. But we shall meet again. On your 13^th birthday, I shall appear again. We shall being your training then, although you will still remain in the care of your parents. On your 16^th birthday, we shall leave the comforts of your home to journey into the true wilderness, where your training shall truly begin. Now, hold out your right hand. I shall give you a mark so that I may find you when the time is right.”

               The boy, not sure what else to do, and not know his right from his left yet, held out both his hands. The old man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He held the head of the staff over the boy’s right hand. The branches seemed to glow slightly and a light appeared over the boy’s hand. It was small and soon formed the shape of a tree with a large canopy. It started dark, but rapidly faded until it could barely be seen when looking closely.

               “I have found what I was looking for.” The old man said. “I shall depart and leave you all to enjoy your time here.”

               And with that, he left. The kids all gathered around the boy, trying to see the mark on his hand. The adults spoke quietly to each other, wondering what had just happened and what they should do. No answers were to be found, leaving only more and more questions as the day wore on.

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I am oddly disappointed that this word has nothing to do with rams. I mean, it seems like it should considering the first three letters, but it doesn't. Ah well, such is life. 

Word: Alliaceous

alliaceous

[ al-ee-ey-shuhs ]

adjective

1. Botany. belonging to the genus Allium (formerly the family Alliaceae). Compare allium.
2. having the odor or taste of garlic, onion, etc.

 

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               Becky grabbed another head of garlic and began chopping it up as fine as she could. She was not a professional chef though, so her efforts were not particularly pretty. But looks were not what mattered. She dumped it all in the pot and the smell filled the kitchen. She heard the sound of someone taking a deep breath behind her. But she had not heard anyone entering.

               “Going a bit heavy on the garlic, huh, Becc?” Said the other person. It was Becky’s roommate, Sophie.

               “I like garlic.” Becky said. It was a stupid thing to say, but Sophie was close. Closer than she should have been. It made Becky uncomfortable to have the other woman so close to her neck.

               “Yeah, but there’s a limit to how much a person can take. Maybe start with one clove at a time and taste it before jumping straight to a whole head.”

               Becky felt her heart pounding. A cold sweat dripped down her spine as she glanced over at Sophie. The woman was deathly pale, and far to pretty to be allowed. Plus she insisted on wearing tight black clothes everywhere.

               “It’s not that much, considering how much sauce I’m making.” Becky said. “In fact I think I’ll add another head, just to make sure it flavors everything.”

               Sophie sighed and shrugged. “Fine, fine. Suit yourself. But when it comes out and all you can taste is the garlic, don’t come crying to me.”

               “What do you care? Not like you’re going to have any of it anyway. You’re going to eat out, just like always.” Becky could guess what Sophie was “eating.” It was the real reason she was using so much garlic.

               “Actually, I was planning on staying in tonight. Nothing much happening tonight. Also, seeing your face when you take a big bite of super garlicy spaghetti will be priceless.”

               Becky did not reply for a moment. “Wait, you’re staying in? Even with what I’m making?”

               “Sure. Why is that so surprising?”

               “Well it’s just that you always go out at night, since you stay in all day. Plus, I kind of thought you might be…allergic to garlic?”

               Sophie blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. “Allergic? Why in the world would you think that?”

               “Well, I just, had a hunch?”

               “What do you think I am, some kind of vampire or something?”

               Becky laughed nervously. Sophie just laughed even harder.

               “Oh my god, you do! You think I’m a vampire! That’s hilarious.”

               “Well can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You never go out in the day, your skin is white as paper, and I’ve never once seen you eat anything.”

               “Oh Becc, no. I’m not a vampire.” Sophie said. “I’m a vampire hunter. I mean seriously, look at my teeth. Vampires can hide their fangs, but not that much.” She opened her mouth wide, showing her normal human teeth. “Also, even if I was a vampire, your plan wouldn’t have worked.”

               “Huh?”

               “Oh yeah, wouldn’t have done anything. Rookie mistake, really. No matter what TV and books tell you, vampires don’t care one bit about garlic. It’s just a smelly plant to them. Now finish up with that pasta sauce so we can eat. And…Becc? No more garlic. It’s excessive already.”

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I was torn whether she should be a hunter or a vampire.  I went with what I did because, well, mostly because I wanted to.