The Case of the Missing Cat
I was awoken early in the morning by the sound of the telephone. I hurried to answer it, only to be beaten by George. I listened to what he was saying into the phone, with no real clue of what was going on. After about ten minutes, he hung up and turned to me. "That was an elderly lady by the name of Edith Dogskipper, which is a really good name for she tends to skip through the dogs at shelters to get to the cats. Anyway, she claims that her beloved cat, Gerd, is missing. She says that Gerd was last seen under her bed, but now can't be founded anywhere."
"Well," I considered, "what was she doing when the cat was found missing."
"The cat hasn't been found, that's the thing. She said if we need the full story, to go find her."
We headed straight to her house and after five minutes of knocking, an elderly lady of about eighty opened the door. At first, she just stood there, staring at us. Then she exclaimed "What do you want?" I figured she must be partially deaf the way she yelled, so I yelled back.
"We are here to talk about your missing cat! I'm detective Robert P. Richard and this is my sidekick, George!"
"Why didn't you say so," she said more softly. "There's no need to yell." Miss Dogskipper added.
We headed into her living room and found it quite cozy. It was filled with warm colored furniture and had a light pink wall. It made me think of a warm summer day in a garden. Miss Dogskipper gestured to a teal couch and George and I sat down. She then explained that she had just been outside, grabbing the paper, when she had felt something brush by her feet. She didn't see anything when she looked down and figured it must have been her imagination. She went back inside and called for Gred, but no cat came, she then walked through the house but was unable to find him. That's when she called us. Miss Dogskipper wished for us to hunt down her cat.
George and I decided we should start where the cat was last felt: the front porch. We went out to the porch and instantly found paw prints in the dirt (It had rained the other day.) "George," I asked him. "Do you know how to tell the difference between a dog's and a cat's footprint?"
"No, I do not." he announced politely.
"Well, since cats have retractable nails, you can't see the claw marks in the dirt. This print is indeed a cat's. I believe it is Gred's."
Well, we followed the prints all through the town, out into farmlands, past more towns, until finally, we found the maker of the prints. It was a grey cat with a white chest and stomach. I'll just say, he was really well fed. I made to grab him, but he ran. I was astonished at how fast he was. "George," I cried. "That must be Gred."
We gave chase, but soon lost him. We decided to turn back and visit Miss Dogskipper and tell her that her cat was miles from his house, but may still come back.
When we arrived at Miss Dogskipper's house, we found a surprise. "Guess what?" she was saying. "Those men won't be back. They will be following those prints for days, ain't that right, Gred? I heard they never lost a case and they won't want to be beaten by a cat. Well, well, well. Gred, ain't it fun, we outsmarted the best detective in the block."
I strolled in. "I don't think so, ma'am. See, we got here, we came back, and we found your cat."
"And how is that?"
"Well, if you just turn around, you will see Gred. After all, you were just talking to him. We found the cat. He is orange with a white chest and stomach, along with a brown marking on his nose. I do believe his name is Gred. Well," I said as I turned out the door. "That, George, was a fun little goose chase."
"I agree," he said. "But mind you, did you know this whole time it was fake?"
I just continued to walk back home.