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.]