This ragged, scruffy black kitten has a pitiable sort of look about her, as though—no matter what grooming or pampering she may receive—she is always destined to look precisely like what she is: The runt of the litter. In keeping with her name, the faint whitish smudge on Smoke's breast looks more like a smear of ash than a dramatic blaze or star, and her sharply pointed ears—too large for her by perhaps one or two steps—help create the impression of a particularly malnourished bat.

Likewise, Smoke's tail is somewhat crooked and threadbare, her paws outsized, and her whiskers kinked and asymmetrical. Only her greenish-gold eyes, which are enormous and glow with lively curiosity, are in any way reminiscent of the supposedly inherent elegance and poise that the average feline ought, by all rights, to possess. She is always close to Willem, hiding in his clothing if she can do so, and generally endeavors in every way possible to make herself as unobtrusive and unnoticeable as might be done.

Photo by Amelia Peel