When I was in college, my roommate and I rescued (or stole, depending on what side of the law you are on) a pair of ferrets from the animal lab. Poor little things had numbers tattooed across their necks and one was almost blind. We named them Opal and Saturday.
The amazing thing was what incredible hoarders these little ones were. It took us several days and accusatory fights before we found the remote control, bras, phones and a negative pregnancy test (phew!) tucked neatly in a far corner under the bed.
Anytime anything went missing, Opal and Saturday were the obvious targets. The good thing was that their tiny ferret brains only ever thought to hide things under the bed, so nothing was lost for long.
My son is a ferret. He, with lightening speed, grabs and hides things before you even realize what has happened. Your only clue is his shit-eating grin with his small hand turned up by his face and a squeaky, "Where? Where? Where?"
I found Darling Husband's iPod buried under the ash in the wood stove. I found several library books tucked between couch pillows. I even found my favorite shoes under the dog bed. Lately, however, I have not been able to find the things he has hidden. Sadly, he quickly forgets not only what he has taken but where he chose for the final resting place.
My phone has been missing for hours now and no matter the bribes or intense questioning, all I get is "Where? Where? Where?"
I guess the bright side is that I wanted a new phone anyway.
UPDATE: found it in the toilet. Goddam you, "If it's yellow, let it mellow..."