This evening, when it was time to go out with a couple of ferrets, I couldn't find my cellular phone. I knew it had been turned on, so I resorted to calling it.
No ring signal anywhere.
It wasn't under the bath tub, where Roxane usually hides it (I sometimes let her drag it away, but only when looking to see where it goes), not under the book shelf with the squeaky toys.
Sometimes I wonder if they're too smart to let handle such equipment. She had turned it off and hidden it in a place far, far under furniture, where I couldn't reach it without moving a couple of boxes.
Presumably, she knows the difference between "mine" and "his". Or almost, anyway.