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

Missing !

Flummoxed and discombobulated by the repeated disappearances of his Misters, The Smee has posted this reward:

Reward: Can you find me?

I am a missing Mister. Inner voices regularly coax me to get into my truck and be driven away from my usual parking spot. I have been taken like this and mysteriously dumped back in the same spot on an almost daily basis (often with laundry and groceries).

This daily abduction must stop!

The Birds ‘n the Smee(s) Part II

 “Look how our partner [The Smee] ’s rapt withal. He can’t take his eyes off that bird.”

Caught at the watering can from which he drinks (cf. “Da Vater Code” parts I to infinity)

(OK, don’t: cf. I care)

The Smee is stunned and perplexified by the long-necked vision of white avian pulchritude (darting its beak into the compost for worm treats).

“Yo, The Smee wants to wring its delicate swanlike neck, ravage her Leda-style, and engender his own Helen of Troy.”

“Yo, why don’t you take your myth-a-malogical allusions around back to be shot?”

“As soon as you take your hardboiled pulp lingo out for a ride with cement shoes.”

“Where’d The Smee get to?”

[exactly my question – ed.]

The Birds ‘n the Smee(s) Part I

Mister Smitty has interspecies peeps!

The long-necked (and nekkid) white birds that are wont to ride astride cows ‘round heah have sent an embassy of one to mystify/perplexify The Smee.

“It wants to be one of Mr. Smitty’s peeps.”

“Yo, that’s mixing the cream with the coffee!”

“No, Yo, they’re both white.”

“Well, all right … Wait: one’s a bird.”

“Interspecies-ality. Maybe that’s The Smee’s speci-ality!”

“He does, after all, engage in ‘social’ intercourse with us humans.”