Mr. Smitty vs. The Monolith Part I: Also Spinach Zat-a-threw-at-ya

Mr. Smitty is going to get the monolith!

[ed.’s note: the “monolith” is Mister-slang for the multi-compartmented, human-heighted, orange-painted, twitter-pated shelving unit that dominates The Misters’ porch (and, upon which, the Smitty has sniffed out the members of the Rodentus Big’ngrossus family).]

And now back to our story…

“Mister, The Smitty is watching the monolith very carefully these days.”

“Mister, he is.”

He jumps into the flower box, crushes the arugula, and sits for minutes totally still, staring up toward the top shelf of the monolith.

“He’s sussing out the monolithic sitch-a-tion, G.”

Fleeced ‘N Flummoxed

Mister Smitty is a master of illusion!

He has successfully created the illusion of being a cat.

The Misters – miserable patsies -- fleeced, swindled, completely taken in, lament their gull-ability

“He gone ‘n fooled us, foo!”

“Who you callin’ ‘foo’?”

“Us.”

“Why?… How?…When?… and, uh…

“ ‘Where?’”

“You got it!”

“Well, to answer your questions in order: Here. Now. Because we’re stupid and because he can.”

“Oh. In that case, I guess…”

“You guess what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

Mr. Smitty, What’s your Haiku?

Full moon –

Crazy Smitty;

Not just frisky –

But farting!

Goodbye Whitey

Sad news...but a peep of Mr. Smitty passed away this week: Miss Whitey.

Whitey was a wonderful smitty!!! Found on the side of the road in January of '95, Whitey lived to be 15.

Now she gets to be reunited with her sisters Red Girl and Cocaty. We love you and we'll miss you!!!

Here's how it transpired:

"Whitey passed away early this morning. I had brought her into the house yesterday. We layed on the couch together and watched tv last night. She slept on the couch last night and the kids and I found her this morning.

It was sad, but this last 2 weeks has been really rough. I've been telling Whitey for the last week that if she's tired, it's ok for her to go and be with Red Girl and Cocaty. That' she's been a good girl and that Luckitty will be ok.

I have especially been preparing myself for this after I called and made the vet appt. I'm actually so relieved and happy for her to finally be rid of her tired, old body and to be young and healthy again and playing with her sisters.

We buried her this morning, after the kids left, under the mango tree on the other side of the back fence. Right next to Red Girl! :) It was a beautiful, sunny morning today... just the kind of day that she liked to lay out on the porch and soak in the sunshine."

Goodbye Whitey!

Smee TV

Mister Smitty watches the TV!

When the Misters are sitting on their couch watching a movie, the Smitty is wont to join them by perching on the armrest. Like the Misters, he aims his head in the general direction of the idiot box.

But the Smitty doesn’t watch because the TV has no smell.

(So why stare at it so much – no’m sayin’?)

The Smitty needs Smell TV – a cable niche-network: 634 channels of different smells (the hottest are on paw-per-view. Titles like: “Alley Cat’s Bum” and “Kitty Heat”). Of course every smitty loves reruns of “Cat Woman” and “Rat Patrol.”
Cat Business shows are popular, too: LBI: Litter Box Investigators and the all-time favorite,

“Claw and Odor.”

Missing Misters

The Smitty, of late (I mean, at night) has been projecting his face in the night sky by means of a huge search light.

Actually, he doesn’t do the wielding, he has his peeps for that.

Instead, The Smitty gets reports and barks his “Mao!s” from deep inside the nerve center he’s set up in the Find the Lost Misters Headquarters.

Perhaps you’ve seen those “Reward! Missing Cat” signs posted to poles?

The Smiity has made some to help him find those pesky Misters who disappear for WAY longer than the Smitty’s 10-second attention span and, so, become irretrievably lost (in his mind).

Except his signs don’t have a photo of the Misters; they work through odorama: The Smitty rubs that part of his flaxen flanks (which contain the smell of a Mister’s leg or hand) onto the poster so that any cat might sense the scent and report back in.

Necking

Mister Smitty likes to stretch his neck!

Like a mannerist Smitty (cf. The Smitty of the Long Neck, by Giamthirsti Forasotti), the Smitty enjoys laying and LOLling and stretching his neck out to rest his Adam’s Apple on any convenable surface (a Mister’s leg, the arm of a chair, whatevahs), fold his front leg forward at the wrist, and create one long flat plane of hisself from nose to perineum (where, yes, his nose it often sniffs).

Mannerist Watch: [interrupting this blog to quell restlessly squirming art-history majors] “Despite the above-mentioned attenuations, the Smitty has not (as of yet) engaged in other Mannerist © elongations and disturbations of proper perspective.”

[O Madonna! – ed.]

Mister Smitty, C.S.O.

Mister Smitty has been promoted!

Due to the overwhelming number of response(s) to this blogsite – and the crowds clamoring outside the doors of our executive offices -- The Smitty has been kicked upstairs.
(This -- according to executive spokesperson, Peter Principle -- also means The Smitty has jumped a pay grade (or two). But Principle took pains to clarify that no actual, physical “jumping” had occurred).

The new Executive in Charge of Smittyness -- who shall add vice, condescend, and sit on the board (‘s laps) – shall assume the title (said Principle) of C. S. O.
(Chief Smitty Officer)

Project Runaway

Mister Smitty is a model!

After a hard day posing, all the Smitty wants is a “j’accuse!”-y and a G&T (Groin & Toe-licking).

Whole minutes were spent on the business end of the cellphone camera, enduring The Misters’ “catcalls:”

“Mister Smitty, Mister Smitty, Mister Smitty, Mister –“ CLICK!

Meanwhile The Smitty thinks:

“Yo, where’s my cat comb?” CLICK! “Can I get some water over here?” CLICK! “Where’s that girl with my cucumber-and-mouse-viscera sandwiches?” CLICK!