I, CAT: Finding HIM

I, CAT…2: Finding HIM
I’m keeping my dayjob at the museum as chief mouser but it sometimes gets a little boring ’cause the mice that used to laugh and play all over the place don’t come around much anymore most lately. She says it’s cause they’re getting scareder and scarder of me and Other Cat (aka He-With-Furry-Ears-and-A-Big-Bite, who must be obeyed when hanging out in the backyard)—I dunno tho, She is always putting me on about such things.
She has been helping me tho, and She said she doesn’t mind one bit doing my Capitals at all, and furthermore, and utmostly, said she’d type anything I ask her to as long as it isn’t math, which I don’t even know what that is, so everything’s copaseptic.
Because mice business has been slow these days, I’ve had some opportunity to ruminate and cogitate about some things going on inside the museum. Like for instance I’ve been seriously thinking about this little kid who’s been writin’ his name all over the place, or at least it seems like to me—on the stairwell, scratched into the window—even on some fake money bills I found in the Bank Room. I haven’t been able to find him…not yet, anyways…but if he’s anything like me, he’s probably disappearing around the corner every time I almost get close to him. I bet he’s a rascal…just like me. I bet he’s probably pretty smart, too…just like me also.
I found his little school slateboard upstairs in the children’s room (more of a big closet, really) and he wrote his name on that too. George, George, George! He must really want me to know his name is George. And he writes ‘GWP’ on things too. I guess the ‘GW’ is for ‘George Washington’, ‘cause the owner of this house likes George Washington A LOT, tho I can’t figure out what that last letter ‘P’ stands for, but She’s shaking her head NO as I’m dictatin’ all this. She bugs me whenever she does that, interferin’ with my cogitative deductions, but what do I know–I’m only an articulatin’ objective observer, or something else like that out of spellchek, maybe.
If I ever find this boy, this George WP, I’d like to ask him a few questions, important things that I myself contemplate from time to time—things like, what would he like to be when he grows up, and other important things like, does he speak French and/or like tuna fish? If I find out he does speak French, then I’ll know automatically he has a natural tendency for good taste in tuna fish, which would also give him an added advantage if he ever wanted to grow up to be something really important like, for instance, the youngest Senator in New York State. But first things first. And first: I have to find him…and that’s all I can think of for now. Good Night.

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