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…