Mr. Smitty’s Sleeping Habits

Mr. Smitty sleeps around!

The following is a list of the Smitty’s current “cribs”:

The Crack House (if it’s sunny)

That Mister’s lap (in the morning and early evening)

This Mister’s lap (late evening)

Barbie and Buddha’s wee shelf (late night)

The Misters’ respective chairs (with -- or without – the respective Misters in them). That is to say irrespective of the Misters – and disrespective, too!

Mr. Smitty’s Peeps #1:Mini-Me

Mr. Smitty has a mini-me version of himself who comes around late at night to snarf the Smitty’s food.

Mr. Mini-Me is a small white short-haired version of the Smitty --

“-- one of his peeps, yo --”

-- and doesn’t seem to be wild. Since we’ve taken to leaving the screen door cracked, we’ve found the Smitty’s food depleted by morning.

And the Smitty’s opinion of this violation?

Secret video cameras constantly recording the Smee’s dish (“Live Food Cam”) show Mini-Me breezing past an unconcerned Smitty who vaguely raises his head and blinks slowly.

That’s because the Smitty is a benevolent, contented Smee, all Zenned-out (post-ego, post-conflict), free from needy entanglements and making up for being the last child who got the hand-me-downs and other such karmic rollercoasters.

Mr. Smitty’s Peeps #1:Mini-Me

Mr. Smitty has a mini-me version of himself who comes around late at night to snarf the Smitty’s food.

Mr. Mini-Me is a small white short-haired version of the Smitty --

“-- one of his peeps, yo --”

-- and doesn’t seem to be wild. Since we’ve taken to leaving the screen door cracked, we’ve found the Smitty’s food depleted by morning.

And the Smitty’s opinion of this violation?

Secret video cameras constantly recording the Smee’s dish (“Live Food Cam”) show Mini-Me breezing past an unconcerned Smitty who vaguely raises his head and blinks slowly.

That’s because the Smitty is a benevolent, contented Smee, all Zenned-out (post-ego, post-conflict), free from needy entanglements and making up for being the last child who got the hand-me-downs and other such karmic rollercoasters.

A Nobel Smitty

Mr. Smitty has cured AIDS!*


* but he either can’t figure out how to communicate such stuffs to The Misters because they just sit around all day and occasionally disappear for long periods…

-- Or, he has the cure but he sees a lap, goes there, falls asleep, and then forgets.

“What was I thinking about?”

Sneezy Smitty and the case of the missing eye candy

Mr. Smitty is a sneezy smitty!

He likes to sneeze a lot recently.

“Is he allergic?”

“It’s probably the new [garbled]”

“Or the change of season.”

“When’s the equinox?”

“He doesn’t have as much goop in his eye as usual.”

“You mean Mr. Smitty’s eye candy?”

“Mr. Smitty IS eye candy.”

Wilson: 14 Points

Where does the Smitty go when Wilson (bad dog) is ranging free?

“Mister can look with the flashlight?”

“I don’t see him in the tree.”

“He should. I’d go into the tree, if I were a smee.”

“What’s Wilson (bad dog) eating?”

“It looks like plastic.”

“Dumbass.”

“No wonder the Smitty is nowhere to be found.”

“He’s embarrassed.”

“Should I re-put-up the jail?”

That Mister puts the child fence thingee back at the top of the stairs, so Wilson (bad dog) can’t steal my socks or sandals and sich.

“That dog is like a walking advertisement for cats.”

“Word, yo.”

Let’s All Chant!

Na Smee!

Na Smee, Na Smee, Na Smee!

Na Smee-tee-tee! Mis-ter Smee!

Hi, Mr. Smee-tee, Mr. Smee.

Hi, Mr. Smee-tee, Mr, Smee-tee, Mr. Smee-tee-tee!

Mis-ter Smee!

[repeat endlessly]

The Great Salt Lick

Mr. Smitty likes to lick himself!

His lickings are fun to smell when they are fresh. You can smell the salty smell of his breaths…

…like an estuary or bird sanctuary or bog: salty and sour.

Yum, Mr. Smitty!

Get Up, Stand Up

Mr. Smitty stood up on his hind legs!

He was chasing a white moth and he ran and jumped and clasped his hands together to try to perpetrate the moth.

“I knew he could stand up!”

“And dance!”

“So you think you can dance, Mr. Smitty?

[Photo documentation of his dancing on two feet will follow; such documentation was not available at press time (though, admittedly, there is no “press”).

But documentation is coming, we understand, from a small stable boy who lives in the loft with his brother who tends the sheep…]

Mr. Smitty’s Crack House

Mr. Smitty is in his crack house!
(a rock outcropping covered with succulents and such)

Mr. Smitty likes his crack house. He stays there for long periods – even in light rain. The first time we discovered he had a “problem” was when we observed the Smee having sat unmoving and smilingly contented for several hours

(after having fed him a food additive hereafter referred to as “Kitty Crack”).

“Mister, he’s been there a long time.”

“Mister, he has.”

“Mister, it’s raining.”

“Mister, he don’t know enough to come out of the rain.”

“Mister, that must be some good Kitty Crack, yo”

“Mister, we’re going to have to do an INTERVENTION!”

Sunburned II: The Final Solution

We rejoin the Misters in mid-hair (-pulling) as they run about the yard fretting about the black spots that have appeared on the Smitty’s ears

(which unbeknownst to them – but not to us – is the result of sunburn)

The Misters quickly pick up the bat phone (I mean “cat” phone) and speed dial The Blossom (aka. Ms. Fabulous) Cat Expert Extraordinaire

“Rub suntan lotion on his ears.”

(sighs of relief, “O Thank God”s, etc.)

“and on his nose, too, if he’ll let you. I had a cat once…

[fill in your own gory details]

“…eventually he had no nose – just two holes.”

Then The Blossom got all scientifical:

“Tipandectomy—“ (or something like that. Check the surveillance tapes, willya?)

“—where they have to cut part of the cat’s ears off. Have you ever seen…?”

No, I certainly have not – thank you very much! (wrapping my shawl about me and shuddering)

Sunburned Smitty

Mr. Smitty’s ears are getting sunburned!

The tips of his ears (pink under the white fur – his most albino moment) have scratches.

(I thought from a fight:)

“Doan mess!”

“Dat’s right!”

“Did you get into a fight, Mr. Smitty?”

He lets me inspectify his ear (Good Smitty!)

There are black spots!! (Like he was cooked too long)

What to do?! What to do!?

(The Misters run screaming from the building, pulling their hair in great tufts--

TO BE CONTINUED !

The Eyes Have It

Mister Smitty has pretty eyes!

One day on the porch, during that crepuscular time we call the cocktail hour, the Professor

(visiting, but not a “visiting professor”) said, in reference to the Smee:

“He has such beautiful eyes!”

To which those assembled could only agree.

“Aren’t they all that color yellow?”

(We take the phrase “they all” here to mean “all cats”)

“But his are particularly golden.”

To which those assembled could only agree.

Mr. Smee!

Prince of Cats

“Mister Smitty, what is you genealogy?”

“Prince of Cats, yo.”
(That Mister, speaking for the Smee, once played Tybalt, yo.)

“Egyptian? Like the Sphinxes?

“French? Comme les Garcons?”

“Les chats, puissants et doux, orgueil de la maison…”
[sorry to interrupt again – this is the “ed,” yo – but we must bow to the weight of allusions and references by footnoting, glossing, hyperlinking --
(N.B.: is “hyperlinking” a bygone fad word that faded? When I say it to my students they chuckle – like it’s as dusty as “groovy” but without the cache of well-used authenticity)
And where is the Smitty in all of this, we ask? Please object to such blatant literary allusion-makings by writing your congressman – or webmaster. And while you’re at it, object to the intrusiveness of the “eds,” too, yo!]

Mr. Smitty’s Monster Mash

Mr. Smitty caught a monster!

The Smitty was climbing in one of those big potted plants below the porch

“What are you doing, Mr. Smee? Are you adventurizing? Are you bending grass blades to clean between you toes?”

But then I saw the monster:

It was a small black monster with yellow-brown spots (a mini-monster). The Smitty smelled it all up and down but let it cling to the leaf.

When it jumped to the next plant, the Smee pranced around on the impossibly narrow lip of the plastic pot and then grabbed the monster in his mouth and brought it to the base of the stairs…

Where he proceeded to let it go and play cat-and-monster with it.

[At this point we must step in to stop the reporting of any gory violence that may or may not follow –ed.]

Mister Smitty is a Collared Smitty

Mister Smitty got a flea collar!

It’s an off-white affair that blends horror-moniuosly with the Smitty’s furs.

(The aroma of the aforesaid is a tad difficult for This Mister.)

The Misters were in a tizzy about whether to go with the anti-flea drops or with the collar.

But until a conference with our local quasi-resident expert on matters feline

-- future paid consultant of Mr. Smitty Enterprises, LLC –

The Misters, flummoxed, engaged in the stop-gap collar-measures mentioned above. We shall see…

On Reconnaissance: the Case of the Exotic Tarp

Mister Smitty went on the Bad Lady’s roof!

From there, he gets to look down on Wilson (chonch dog) and inspectify all he surveys.

The tar paper expanse -- covered now with a big blue tarp – makes for an exotic walking surface for the Smitty’s little pink paw-pads.

“He don’t hear us calling to him.”

“But wait: Here he comes!”

“Mr. Smitty, you did hear us!”

“Did you accomplish your mission?”

“We’re proud of you!”

Late Edo – Early Smitty Period (C.E.)

Mister Smitty is in his “Lap Period.”

There’s the Meji period that gives way to the Edo…

There’s Picasso’s Blue Period that went all rosey…

…and there’s Mr. Smitty’s “Dirt Nap Period” that is now giving way to his “Lap Period.”

Of course there was the Fluffy White Cat Bed Period (2005-2006 C.E.)

[for a full discussion and list of the historical periods reaching back to the early 21st Century (C.E.), close this blog and open a musty leather-bound tome somewhere, G.]

Mr. Smitty on the down-low

Mister Smitty is scared of the weed-whacker!

As soon as he hears it, he hunkers down and slides along close to the ground.

“He’s on the down-low, G.”

He slinks around looking for hiding places and reacts quickly to every new ka-ching! Chort! Or Snipp! of the weed-whacker – and looks for higher ground.

“The upper room, brother!”

“Tru dat.”

“Mister, he’s confusificated about where to go.”

“Mister, but at least each new place he poses he’s still an aesthetically pleasing Smitty.”

“Tru dat!”

Some Enchanted Smitty

Mister Smitty likes to do laps!

He isn’t sneaky about getting into your lap. If he spies an open lap… across a crowded room…

Some enchanted lap…
You will meet a strange lap
You will jump into a warm lap

The Smee is in my lap as we speak. I think he’s farting – I mean, “enchanting” the air with his inner essence…

Mister Smitty Live in Hawaii – the Concert!!

Relics…

…like the flea glove once used to (try to) remove fleas from the Smitty (but which the Smitty eschewed, disdained, rejected …

… like Elvis in Hawaii flinging those used scarves into the hands of screaming fans. It got The Misters talking:

“Yo, thass what someone should bring to Antiques Roadshow (yo) when it comes to Hawaii.”

(in his best appraiser’s voice:) “…because the scarf is still damp with the King’s sweat (after 30 years)…”

“That’s gross! Of course, if it were Madonna’s…”

“Or the Smitty’s…”

Mr Smitty!

Mr. Smitty the Gamboler

Mister Smitty’s new flea comb works well!

I’m SO glad we have not had to collar the Smitty, but that he could continue to run free (and nekkid) to cavort and gambol in the furry white nude.

Yes, that’s right: the Smitty is a gamboler!

(I don’t even really know if what he gets is called a “flea” or a “tic.”
I should double click to find out!)

Da Big Sleep (still perpetratin’ them dang flowerboxes, part III)

Mister Smitty is taking a dirt nap!

Mr. Smitty sits in the flower box (nice tight plastic sides, organic potting soil, one half-dead marigold behind the Smee’s behind). He flops his numerous and copious stomachs down on the dirt…

(skip forward here to avoid a repetition of used descriptions from previous, tedious entries).

“…flouncing his furry self…”

(keep skipping)

“…no’m sayin?”

(oops. You skipped to the end!)

Festival of the 1st Year (continuing useless coverage)

Each passing day of the Smitty’s celebratory festival is more action-packed than before!

Readers who’ve never met now hug each other on the floor of the convention center, share stories of their favorite blog entries, and weep. Many have made t-shirts with photos of the Smee they have downloaded –

-- we interrupt this entry with a message from our lawyers:

[The legal team of this website hereby informs you that the illegal downloading of images of the Smee is strictly forbidden -- except where a case can be made that to desist from the capturing and t-shirtisizing of the Smee’s image would cause undue hardship for his fans.]

On the walls of the convention hall are projected favorite entries and photos in an endless loop -- beginning not chronologically but with The Most Favorite Entry (voted by a majority of the “Readers Group” to which many of you, our dear reader(s) belong, all the way to the 76th (least favorite entry) which was so forgettable, we’ve forgotten to include it.

Meanwhile, a star-studded cast of personalities (famous for being famous) perform readings of their favorite entries on the various stages scattered throughout the convention center. (click on the the “$$” link to download or purchase physical media (CD, DVD, LP, Tape, 8-Track, or print versions available.

(Please indicate language of your choice))).

Mr. Smitty vs. the Paparazzi

Mister Smitty has secrets!

The Smitty doesn’t want you to see secret photos of hisself doing embarrassin’ stuffs like…

Running, jumping onto the stack of magazines, and sliding them off the table so he falls off all overshot, befuddled, and discombobulated…

“HEY! (bursting through the doors of the executive offices of mistersmitty.com) Don’t be tellin’ that stuff!” (wrestling a Mister’s hands away from the keyboa--)

[this entry has been shut down by a spokesman from Mr. Smitty’s legal team]

Festival of the 1st Year (Hype & Hoopla continued)

“Is he crazy?”
“A blog about a cat?”
“Have they gone mad?”

Surprise! Consternation! Giggles! Suspicion of Dementia!

--just some of the reactions upon the launch of Mister Smitty’s blog, lo this many year ago.
What was it like in those early days?
Photos of the Smitty show a youthful roseate glow to’s cheeks. In one shot he sleeps in a plant pot with a jacaranda tree. A year later there’s no room in that pot for the Smee! Oh the days…
[we skip here the fond reminiscing of the Misters over the thick photo album they’ve drug out to occupy our dear reader(s) precious hours. You're Welcome – ed.]

1st Anniversary! (of Mister Smitty's Blog)

Hurray! Hurrah! Sis-Boom-Bah!
mistersmitty.blogspot.com is 1 year-old! (duh)

Eschewing a single day of celebration for a week-long festival of blog-entries, book-signings, meet-and-greet-the-Smee events, everyone down here at the corporate headquarters is donning party hats, t-shirts, noise-makers, decals, bumper stickers
(all available, by the buy, at our link marked "$$")
to celebrate and commemorate and designate and ameliorate the first year
(hereafter known as "Year One") of Smeedom.

Bring your Smee!
There’s loads of fun for the little smees: Cat fights, tail-chasings, faux-breeding (with wee latex hats for those in heat), and a dimly-lit, dank basement "Fun House" with a bunch of old cardboard boxes stuffed with mouse urine-soaked bedding -- and fully stocked with mice! Hours of fun for your smitty!

Da Vater Code (Part Whatever/Extra DVD Features)

Mister Smitty has a moat!
Tired of ants crawlin’ upside the Smitty’s dish and getting all jiggy with the Smitty’s foods, the Misters designed a moat system by which a charger was placed under the Smitty’s dish, fully charged with water, thus providing the eponymous aforementioned moat.
Much trial and error – and taxpayer dollars – were expended in finding exactly the right type of motational device --since the Smitty is a lusty eater and can, in the process of alimentating hisself, slide his dish from the safe center to the dangerous, ant-filled lee shore of his charger
(or brownie pan, till we had to get rid of it when it got all rusty and the water in it looked like one of those dead industrial rivers in Ohio they used to show shots of in that “Don’t Litter” commercial that climaxed with the Indian shedding a tear).
“ANY-way!…”
Stay tuned for the Misters’ “Final Solution” to Moat-gate.

Mark but this flea…

Why do fleas go for Mister Smitty’s facial areas?

“Because, little Susie/Markie, the flea, as a creature, responds to the blah blah blah of the Smitty’s blah blah-blah and his fore-blah and subcutaneous blahistical blahnatory blah…”

“ANY-way!…” The real reason the fleas go for the Smitty’s face is because we do too! Wouldn’t you? He’s so cute – fleas can’t resist. They want to kiss the Smitty’s face like anyone else!

Mr. Smitty meets Meta-Fiction

Mister Smitty could give cat advice!

(I mean give cats advice about humans).

He could have a column or a blog. It could be called Mister Smitty. It could be written by the Smitty under the alias of “This Mister.” Posing as a human, the Smitty would pen inane anecdotes about himself, always careful never to actually speak and thus reverse the two-way mirror effect of what he’s doing and, like switching a light on behind the interrogation room, thus revealing himself as “the man behind the curtain.”
“ANY-way!…”
Stay tuned for the advice column by the pseudo-fictitious Mister Smitty
(and his ghostly amanuensis-beard, “This Mister” Puppet! Figurehead!)

Brunch with Mister Smitty

Mr. Smitty should have a leash!
Then, we could take him “downstairs” to eat with us: (doo-do-do, doo-do-do (sound of time passing as the Misters march the Smitty on his leash down to the breakfast joint))
“I’ll have a short stack, a breakfast burrito, and whaddya want, Mr. Smee?”
“(purr)”
“Plate a milk.”
While we wait, we read the paper.
“What part of the paper do you want, Mr. Smitty.”
(dumb look like, “duh, obviously, the comics: it’s where the cats are”)
“He don’t want to read the paper, he wants to pee on it!”

A Short Note on the Luxuriously Long Front Legs of the Smitty

Mister Smitty has long front legs! He likes to stretch them out in front of him when he sits in the sun like a Sphinx (which is the royal stone form of Mister Smitty).

Or when he lays completely flat, his legs stretch way out in front of him like he’s diving or flying through the air like Super Smitty!

And his cape snaps behind him in the wind when he adventurizes.

Mister Smitty, Lap Dancer

Mister Smitty is a lap-dancer!

Mister Smitty likes to do laps.

As soon as a Mister sits down, the Smitty’s sensitive “fresh lap” radar turns his head in a lapward direction and propels the Smee to the targeted lap.

Once ensconced, he scrunches up his face all satisfied-kine and rests his head on a Mister’s knee.

As if to say, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, G.”

Lettuce Now Praise a Famous Smitty

Mister Smitty sleeps in the window boxes!

He likes the dirt feel and the edging – like a bed – that his fluffiness gets to lie up against for warmth and protection.

(Don’t ask the arugula that’s being crushed by his massive stomachs what they think about the Smitty’s new habit)

But this, too, shall pass, little lettuces!

Mr. Smitty’s Purr-pose in Life

Mister Smitty likes to purr!

When the Smee climbs into the Mister’s lap (either Mister, since they’re basically interchangeable as far as a sleepy Smitty is concerned) he puts his head up by Mister’s knees like a judge listening to a case.

“Objection, Your Honor!”

“(purr).”

Sleep Study

Mr. Smitty likes to sleep! He can sleep on and off all day. But what is “on” and what is “off” for the Smitty? To find out we conducted our “Heavy Petting” test: If deep, luxurious petting (including some finger rigidity) does not draw a response from the Smitty, then he is deemed “asleep.”

But if light, floatingly brushed-across-the-surface kine petting actions draw even the slightest response from the Smitty, we must consider him at only the entry level of sleep business. Or, in laymen’s terms, “cat-napping.”

Mister Smitty, Barbie, and Buddha

Mr. Smitty uses Barbie’s shelf like a superhighway! The Barbie always be getting knocked down by the Smitty (though Buddha, under her gently outstretched hand, remains undisturbed) and Miss Barbie’s little Chinese take-out carton (under her other gently outstretched arm) keeps getting knocked down, too! Mister Smitty is a reckless smitty. “Mebbe she goin’ have to get rid of her Chinese take-out!” “Mebbe she finished eatin’her Chinese take-out, and Mr. Smitty be bussin’ her table to make some room!” “Mister Smitty don’t bus. He’s a sommelier or somfin’ li’dat.”

Reincatenation

Gatto -- [the fluffly black cat of legend who was one of this mister’s former cats (and whose amazing story (including TV appearance) is chronicled in the pre-blog days of the last century in huge leather-bound tomes stored at the Bodelian))] -- would be the anti-Smitty in one of those cartoon adventure universe. Mr. Smitty could possibly be the Return of Gatto in a white version (see previous blog), post-Bardo sort of good-reward-reincarnation-type being (since Gatto was a good cat and thus deserving of a reincarnation as the Smitty!). Of course, reincarnation is just our flawed, time-based way of glimpsing the actual reality of the eternal present – multiple simultaneous presents we move nomadically in and out of eternally… … right Mr. Smitty? (cos he know, yo.)

Wizardry

“Mister Smitty the White” should be his wizard name. Like Gandalf, who comes back from the dead -- or wherever he comes back from—

[Tolkien experts now respond in droves to correct me; the computer overloads; the server explodes; the Mister Smitty Website implodifies, all blogs crashing together into a thickly-matted jungle of black letters; The photos of Mister Smitty all tumble, their black square frames cracking like eggshells and the photos of Mister Smitty jump out (as a cat would naturally do when something he is in side of starts to fall), and all multiple smitties, --his poses, his runnings, his pausings – all float out of the debris and run, transformed, into whiter versions of themselves – --and it all ends in a huge white out of Smitty selves converging toward the camera and swooping over us in a rush of brilliant white!]

Scratchable Design Flaws

If you scratch the Smitty right on the breast bone he’ll always stop and oblige you. It’s not a place he can get to very well; it’s just how smitties are constructionated that prevents them from getting a good scratch up in there -– no’m sayin’?

On a similar note, [what note would that be… D flat?] when a Mister is about to comb the Smee for fleas, the Mister first presents the tines of the comb to Mister Smitty’s nose so he know what commin’ at him, down the pike, ya dig?

Sleepatronics #2

You can pet the Smitty when he’s asleep. That’s because the Smee doesn’t sleep in the same way that we do; His sleep is a fluid, elastic, home of many mansions. He can go in and out of sleep fluidly and easily. When is a smitty fully NOT sleeping, anyway? They’re always in some kind of leisure state, yes? Dis is some kind of philosophie, jah?

Sleepmaster Smitty

Mister Smitty is a Master Sleeper!

He puts his paw over his face

…to block out the light?

…because he’s having a private Pirate Smitty dream? (it’s his way of putting a patch over his eye) “Miao, Miao, Miao and a bottle of rum! “Argh, matey!” (The Smitty spies a wee mousey). “Avast, ye land-lubbin’ mices! I’m coming to get ye!”

Barre Nun

Mister Smitty is a choreographer!

“OK people! Come out to the middle of the stage, flop on your side, lick you paws. Follow me. Good. Lick that back paw. In between the claws, people!

“OK. Now the crotch!” “Get the back foot straight up in the air, people! Now, stomachs on the floor…and stretch those front legs out – stretch ‘em out!

And here’s what I like to do: cross those front paws at the wrist.

(Mister Smitty’s signature position).

Veggie-Might

Mr. Smitty is a vegetarian!

Mr. Smitty got up on the table and started to sniff the salad – and lick some lettuce.

“It’s like eating the grass.”

He licked but he didn’t bite. (It’s like not inhaling). We put the salad down by his bowl. We want to see if The Smitty will actively pursue a “vegetarian lifestyle.”

Fictionification

Sirs,

It has come to our attention from frequent “comments” appended to this blogsite from Our Devoted Reader(s) that there is a growing suspicion that some of The Smitty’s hijinks are “fictionalized.” Let me assure our dear readers that nothing could be further from the truth than this fiction! Everything you read in these (electronic) pages is true (though, of course, virtual). For those as yet unsatisfied by these fervent avowals, you are cordially invited to see for youse self by inspectifying the grounds, offices, hallways, broom closets, and mechanical rooms of mistersmitty.blogspot.com during regular office hours.

Sincerely,

The Mange-ment

Mr. Smitty, Author

This notebook was flipped open to a new page and this pen was found askew.

This Mister asked That Mister:

“Mister, was Mister writing about Mr. Smitty?

“Mister, no.”

“Mister, maybe Mr. Smitty was writing to tell it from his side.”

“The untold story, no’m sayin’?”

“The authorized edition”

“I am Mr. Smitty, and I approve of this message.”

“Mr. Smitty’s lawyers will be calling now.”

“Mr. Smitty’s peeps.”

“Yeah. Except Mr. Smitty’s peeps all have law degrees.”

“Shoots!”

The Sultan of Smitty

Like a harem, Mr. Smitty played with a white plastic bag!

-- not a trash bag (see “Mystery of the Trash Bag I – V, the quintology)
but a small white plastic bag that the Misters had got corn on the cob in from the store.

Maybe it smelled good? Like a harem?

The Smitty’s face was impressed into it briefly – like the shroud of Turin.

“Get the carbon dating equipment and laser-x-ray technology all up here to authenticate if it actually is the Smitty’s face impressed into this white plastic corn bag!”

Da Vater Code VII: The Ergonomics of Kitty Water Delivery Systems

Let’s recreate the scene…

[Answer (for those who do not wish to recreate the scene but who, on RSS feeds, need to read, digest, laugh, make faces of anger, etc, and move on to climb the corporate ladder):

The Smitty can sit standing (betcha wish I’d say “see attached photo,” huh?) and the lip of the watering can is exact-a-mately at his neck height (yo) so he simply dips and sips hisself till he be satiated, ya dig?]

…it was a warm summer’s day in the rural farming community of K…

Gracious Host Tales #2: Certified Lap Inspector

When The Blossom (aka Ms. Fabulous) was still sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, she was visitated by a certain Certified Lap Inspector (of whom we sing).

Driver door open, I hear the Inspector announce hisself with a plaintive peep and then futz a bit about how when where why to jump up into my lap (apparently the only way to enter the cab – since the floor is an unknown quantity).

That initial jump having been done, The Smitty cast his noses about and spied a certain Sacred Blossom having ridden shotgun.

Standing on my lap, he stared at her and posed the following questions (silently):

“Yo, whatchall doone sitting in that Mister’s seat?”

“Are you safe to smell?”

“Is you r lap going be made like them other laps?

Reassured by the Blossom’s gentle cooing (and years of cat-owning), the Smitty made a cursory reconnaissance mission into her lap to get a feel for the territory.

Seeing that the lap checked out, he went about his business. He’s a busy Smitty – he cannot sit and be petted all day by fawning humans!

Tales of the Closet #2: Sneaky Smitty and the Case of the Cubbyholes

We last left the Smitty safely in the closet. But that wasn’t safe enough for the Smitty: once a cat gets into the closet there’s no end to his adventurizing.

You see, the Smitty has climbed up onto the shelves above the hanging shirts to hide in the cubbyholes where lacy unmentionables and very mentionable work t-shirts and such are folded with an O.C. glee.

There, the Smitty settles in for long winter’s sleep.

Well, a certain Mister who shall remain nameless was nary very pleased with the prospect of white cat hairs all over his carefully folded t-shirts – not to mention the wrinkling from the tremendous weight of the Smitty’s reclining bum and girth plopped down and snuggled-in to the aforesaid shirts.

All this by way of leading up to a key scrap of expostion which must be in place for the climax/punchline/long-awaited-end of this story to work:

That Mister cleverly installed cardboard doors to cover the violated cubbyholes. Thick, corrugated cardboard flaps that hinge at the bottom and hook onto a nail at the top (very ship-like, very train-compartment). The Misters can hide these items from wandering Smitties looking to nestle.

But in the exciting climax of this story, one of the flaps was left open, in the down postion, thus providing a cardboard shelf for the Smitty to step out onto.

Which he did.

And promptly fell -- in a stunning and hilariously ungraceful and thoroughly un-cat-like way – to the floor.

Mr. Smitty fell out of the closet!

A Very Closeted Smitty

Mr. Smitty is in the closet!

No, yo, he’s climbing all up in the clothes and sich.

The clothes are minding their own bid’ness on hangers all pressed together tightly and this tightness of fashion options provides a platform upon which the Smee can jump and land.

From there, diagrams are needed to show how the Smitty stands on the left (metaphorical) shoulders of the Misters’ shirts and jumps over the closet pole onto the right shoulders to hide in the little space there under the top shelf.

It is only the friction of the many pressed-together shirts that keeps the Smitty from plunging into the laundry basket beneath.

In closets where the shirtage is less copious -- or where negative space between shirts is provided for airflow -- the Smitty would be jacked!

Gracious Host Tales #1:The Professor

When The Professor came over for a drink, the Smitty waited until the professor was pleasantly ensconced in the low-slung mama-san swivel chair (this mister’s main chair), drink in hand, holding forth on some subject

-- and then, from nowhere, he leapt up into the professor’s lap and settled in for some heavy petting.

"Well hello,” said the Professor a-petting. “What a beautiful cat you are.”

And then, addressing the Misters: “He’s beautiful. And so clean!”

And then they all sat by the fire and had tea

[or something like that. I mean where do they get these entries? Old children’s books?—ed.]

Da Vater Code VI: “I Placed a [Watering Can] in Tennessee”

It took many weeks of watching the Smitty drinking from the watering can --

(which actually has a fulfilling life qua watering can for the Misters’ various herbs, flowers, plants, etc. don’t get me wrong – the can is not some cutesy prop expressly placed for the Smitty’s delectation)

(nor is the can a fictional construct around which to build, pearl-like, the story of the Smitty’s drinking habits.)

(“In fact, get the art dept on the blower and get us a photo of that can, STAT!”)

--to discover another, dare I say SECRET, reason for why the Smee has swtichified to the outside water source rather than sticking with the inside water delivery system (see previous blogs for tedious descriptions of same).

And that secret other reason for the switcheroo is…

To Be Continued

(due to the fact that we have reached the “blog barrier” – the maximum length a blog entry can be without becoming a tedious, self-involved drag on the reader’s time.)

Perpetratin’ Them Dang Winderboxes (Redux)

The eponymous main character of which we sing likes to go up into them there winderboxes and plop his Smittiness down will-he nil-he on whatever happens to be trying to grow in there.

To add insult (to us) to the injury (to the plants), he lounges in such a way as to spread out his flanks, his haunches, his back forty to a hideously wide proportion, filling the windowbox from rim to rim with a plump blanketation of Smittiness.

Such luxuriously shameless behavior could cause alarm amongst The Misters … … except that the Smitty’s cuteness usually serves to calm The Misters.

Mr. Smitty on Moisturizing.

Neutral.

Da Vater Code V: The Secret (of Why the Smitty has Migrated to the Watering Can) REVEALED!

“Mister, Mister Smitty likes to drink from the watering can.”

“Mister, We are always careful to keep it full to the top so the Smitty can reach the water.”

“Mister, we are. We are good Misters.”

“Mister Smitty, are we good Misters?’

Mister Smitty: (lapping sounds)

“Mister, I think he likes to drink that water because he thinks it’s fresher. It’s like a rain puddle. The Gato used to always drink from rain puddles.”

“True dat, G.”

“Mister, do you think that Mister Smitty thinks that that is a puddle?”

“Shoots.”

“That he doesn’t know that we top off the watering can on a daily basis expressly for the Smitty?”

“Mister, maybe.”

Da Smitty Code V: Gratuitous Dead-ends

The secret code tattooed in the Smitty’s ear is not a Fibonacci sequence or its opposite, its inverse, its reverse-inverse, its square root, its cube root, cue stick, or rubik’s cube. (though it could sort of look like Versace sequins.)

Nor is this number hidden in the first letters of the words used in the following sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped up the lazy river where the flying fishes play.

The secret code cannot be obtained by guessing the meaning of a rhyming quatrain or by holding this computer screen up to a mirror.

The secret is not something to be gotten by translating the following bit of Baudelaire:

Leurs reins feconds sont plein d’etincelles magiques
Et des parcelles d’or, ainsi qu’un sable fin,
Etoilent vaguement leur prunelles mystiques.

But: all of these items have a secret correlation and significance that may or may not have anything to do with this or any other secret!

Da Vater Code IV: A Sentimental Journey to Chance and Italy

Lately, the Smee has taken to preferring to sip his water from the watering can on the porch (rather than from the plastic “tandem”dish which places his water within kissing-cousin distance to his food).

The Smitty can often be found sipping away contentedly at his newly discovered, natural and organic and aesthetically pleasing watering can.

Like a good Italian mom, the Smee knows where to go to get the freshest ingreediments!

Da Vater Code III: Amendations & Codicils

The dispositional situation vis-a-vis the Smitty’s water, frequency of change, bowlage, etc., includes some details not heretofore covered by the bloggist or his subsidiaries. Thus, we include these amendments to the description of the Smee’s water and its environs:

1)Beneath the Smitty’s water and food is laid a tea towel, white with blue writing (“Wachenfield” – source or meaning unknown) and graphics (a cat’s face – meaning known). Said tea towel is a present from the Mister’s Sister (not that mister’s sister, but this mister’s sister).

2)Since the date of the writing of the previous blog entry – to be distinguished from the posting of said entry – the Smee has suffered the following changes to his circumstances vis-à-vis water, food, and their means of delivery:

a)the FOS bowl that formerly contained his water has been reclaimed by the kitchen staff (in particular the Saucier and hors d’oeuvres maker) and replaced, at the other Mister’s command, by a light-weight plastic “tandem”dish allowing a side-by-side presentation of food and water.

[a transcript of the mediation between the Misters about this radical change in food and water delivery systems vis-à-vis the Smee – a contentious debate striking at the very heart of the constituent issues – is available (forthcomingly – since it is still being used in a legal proceeding) at the legal division’s website]

b)I forget what I was talking about.

Da Vater Code II: The Faux FO Soup Interlude

The Official Water Bowl of the Smitty is a brown ceramic bowl with two loop handles on each side. It is one of a set of French Onion Soup bowls.

(I have made French Onion Soup (FOS) only on e winter in them -- and that was actually a faux FOS made with Mugi miso, all stodgy, sour, and impacted in a way that warms one in winter, doesn’t it, Mr. Smitty?

Mr. Smitty: (no response)

Mister: Does the Smitty like his water?

Mr. Smitty: (no response)

Mister: (turning to his audience in cyberspace) We replace the Smitty’s water often. Perhaps too often. Gentle readers, How often do you replace your smitty’s wa-wa?

Da Vater Code

Mr. Smitty likes to drink his water!

He’s very still when he does it.

I like to watch him do it.

(I’m not sure he likes me to watch.)

So…

When the smitty is drinking his water, we alert each other to the fact

in a coded, impersonal way so as not to disturb the smitty:

“Mister, someone is drinking his water!”

“Mister, someone is!”