Dirty Smitty

Mister Smitty is a dirty smitty!

This is partly because he likes to take dirt naps in The Misters’ window boxes. But you know that (See various entries, Volumes VII - XXVIII, or don’t).

Not to be racist, but it’s hard to be white cat!

The Whiteness of The Smee doesn’t truck with dirt, yo.

Though the aforesaid soil only rests lightly on the surface of his fur like a dusting of paprika or powdered chocolate.

A dirty Smitty looks like a cinnamon–dusted cappuccino!

Caterwauling wit’ da Peeps

Many’s the time when The Misters will hear the sounds of scratchy cat-fight caterwauling and wailing in their district—

“Mister, I hope that’s not The Smitty getting’ down and dirty with his peeps!”

-- and look to make sure The Smitty is safely not among that number, above that ruffian fray

-- only to find The Smitty calmly observing, unmoved by the terrific squealings of his peeps.

“That’s a good and peaceful (read: neutered) Smitty!”

Lapsed Cat-oholic

I dropped in on a meeting of Recovering Cat-oholics.
Tonight’s topic: L.A.D.D. (Lap Attention-Deficit Disorder)
As I sit there, taking in the harrowing stories of tortured guilt, I wonder if I, too, suffer from an inability to concentrate when The Smitty is in my lap.
When it’s my turn to speak, though no one interrupts my maudlin tale of woe, at the end. one kind gentleman points out that the topic is incorrectly spelled on the sign.
“Actually, It’s L.D.A.D.: Lap-Deficit Attention Disorder. In humans, it means an inability to concentrate when there isn’t a cat in your lap.”
“And in cats?” I queried.
“An impatience when laps get up and disappear.”

Incoming!

Mr. Smitty is a stealth bomber!

This Mister was sitting in his porch chair, minding his own martini, scanning “The Listings” about an exhibit of erotic tattoos on torsos,

-- when The Smitty dive-bombed onto his shoulder, dangerously close to the martini in question!

“Really!” snapped The Mister. “A little warning ‘miau’ would be nice.”

The Smee bounded into his (my) lap.

“Did you hear that, Mr. Smee?”

Purr. (Cat talk for “sure.”)

Zen Come-on

Mr. Smitty is a walking, talking (sometimes) zen koan of hisself!

What does it mean if a white cat crosses your path?

Happiness!

(Gongggg…)

In Vino Verre y Tasse

Mister Smitty is a wino!

When This Mister came back one night, the scene of the crime was:

Overturned wine glass fallen across magazine. Wine on table, on floor, but none -- curiously – on the couch… where sat a silent Smee.

It LOOKS like The Smitty knocked the glass over.

But looks can be deceiving.

Maybe The Smitty wanted to drink the wine.

(Dissolve. Swirling close-up of The Smee. Flashback to:)

“…can’t get my snout down into these fancy-ass glasses…whoops! Well, at least now I can get my tongue around some of this here…”.

Nit-Picking

This Mister micro-manages Mr. Smitty’s face!

The aforesaid Mister can be found combing The Smitty nearly every other morning (while The Smee suns his stomachs on the porch).

This Mister is literally a nit-picker!

(Parents may want to preview the following sentence: Once the flea has been caught on the comb, This Mister uses his thumbnail to scrunch and squashify the wee nastie against the comb’s plastic handle (up in there where tine meets shank).

But to really micro-manage, the Mister is always on the spot to remove the blackened eye candy produced by the Smitty in the smithy of his eye!