Fan(s?) Mail Part IV

Sirs,

                Can you prove that your “Mr. Smitty” is little more than a bait-and-switch of photos and words? A paper tiger, clawless and clueless, a sham perpetration of otherwise feline-loving devotees?

Signed,

                 

                Disgruntled, Discombobulated, Disaffected, and Dissed

Warning:

Mister Smitty’s cuteness has reached dangerous levels!

The Misters are in a tizzy about what to do about cuteness levels in The Smee way in excess of EPA standards.

Across the country, ad hoc committees are being convened under the aegis of this or that Mister-surrogate 

(local dog-catchers, cat-bloggists, mentally deficient toilet-seat aficionados, etc.) to discuss emergency plans to deal with…

                … the overwhelming cuteness of The Smee!

Chow Belly!

Mister Smitty has a nice belly!

                

He maintains them flaxen flanks by stretching his belli(cose) muscles in the sun to warm hisself and offer his silky smoothness to any convenable Mister’s foot.

We at Mister Smitty Enterprises, LLC recommend* (see various disclaimers in fine print on the reverse of this blogpost) a quick stroking of The Smee’s belly for any complaint from Tuss-a-ing (coughing) like an Overture to tussling with inner demons.

Delicate stroking of The Smee’s chow belly produces calming waves of beauty that even the stubbornest anxiety finds relaxifying.

Gloss’ll ail ya

Mister Smitty is multilingual!

Check it:

If they’re reading it, they’re already “checkin’ it,” right?

“ANY-way!”

One fine morning in the farming town of K., The Smee was all stretched out, soaking up the rays, and This Mister was stroking his lissome belly, haunches, and toes when he heard The Smee exclaim:

“Wu wei ren xiao” [faux Cant(onese) –ed.] The Smitty was non-nonplussed.

“Choto ohuro ni hirimas” [pho-nihongo]. Purr.

“Peu-tu soupconner…?” “Pas de probleme, Monsieur Smee.”

Told to (w)rap it up by the “ed.” (he of the mighty brackets), we shall leave the multilingual Smee in full glossolalia, lounging on the sunny roof of the Tower of Babel.

 

Recycle

Dear Sirs,

                As a devoted reader of your blog, it has come to my attention that a subtle recycling is afoot.

                Incidents (if they are in fact not spurious) seem to re(app)ear their recycled heads, thinly disguised as repeated activities on the part of The Smee. We are lead to believe these are his “habits,” but are perhaps nothing more than footage rerun once our memories are supposed to have been washed clean of The Smee’s past hijinks.

                Do you actually believe we could forget the unforgettable adventurizing of The Smee?

                Preposterous!

Sincerely,

                Fans for an End to Recycled Cat Stories