"Have you seen my puffer?"
"I think it was in the bathroom."
"I've checked there."
"Have you checked on the kitchen table?"
"I've checked on the kitchen table. I've checked under the kitchen table."
"Have you checked on the bathroom counter?"
"I've checked on the counter. I've checked behind the counter. I've checked in the cupboard above the stove. Rissa!!! Have you seen my puffer?"
"Have you checked the bathroom?"
"I think that's where it was last. Wait! Have we figured out where Lola hides things in this house?"
At this point I turn to our cat Lola. We have been in this house less than a year - we have yet to find her secret cache of toys. You know, the toys that she decides are hers: the hair elastics, the sponges, the caps from pens, the bobby pins... I pick her up. Lola hates being picked up. She gives a pitiful meow - if you were listening from the next room you would think that I am trying to disembowel her.
"Dude. The puffer. I need it." She meows again pitifully, but alas does not lead me to the drugs.
LATER - AT THE PHARMACY
"I think that my, uh, my cat stole my puffer."
The pharmacist doesn't even blink. "I'll give you the official receipt, but I don't think your insurance will cover that."
Later, as I am about to seek out the replacement receipt - I hear and odd mechanical grinding noise. It takes me a minute to place it - it is the paper shredder.