After I get through messing up the old guy's house every day, I like to take a nice long catnap in my favorite box. Unfortunately, it also happens to be where the old guy files all of his tax information and he's always interrupting my slumber. I'm not about to give it up so he'd better find another place to file all that boring stuff. Rod says I’d better get my butt off of his files, or we may both end up in Leavenworth. I think it’s about time he gave me my very own box. He’s got a whole bunch of empty ones stored away. Maybe he could even add a nice soft blanket to make it more comfortable. I hope he reads this and gets the message.
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