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!”