One thing can be said for Kellogg: he doesn't idealize. His dilapidated city reeks with pollution, each of its grotesque inhabitants is gross in his or her own way, and the little girl who is the subject of every picture is seen as if by the tormented cat she chases through a seemingly empty building: leering, grabby, and monstrously unattractive. The text is made up entirely of the child's words to the cat: ""Come here you pretty cat. . . . I didn't mean to pull your tail. You ran away when I was petting it. . . . Don't bite me, cat. Don't, don't, don't. . . . Please, please come back. . . . That's it. . . . Closer, closer. . . . Oh, cat! I hear your motor."" Kellogg's coy asides (as the movie marquee listing his own previous works) don't make it any healthier, and the similarity in tone and subject to the Whitney-McPhail Leave Herbert Alone (KR 1972, p. 1095, J-347) is unsettling all by itself.