The Case of the Missing Mouthguard

        We rely on Theo to keep order at home. He is the oldest of our three cats. In the beginning, Theo was not overly fond of Mico and Sienna. They arrived with some strong feral tendencies. Theo saw them as intruders on his space, his home.

      Theo was tutored by Chuck, the original rascal cat. But he had to establish his own identity. The title "gangster cat" is no accident. He proved he was more than capable of dealing with the two wild ones.

      

 

         Case in point--it is early, very early in the morning. Dan wakes up. It is still dark in our bedroom. Without thinking too much about it (and this is where he makes his BIG MISTAKE), he removes his professionally designed mouthguard and attempts to put it on the nightstand.

       He misses. The mouthguard falls to the floor. We hear it clatter on the hard wooden surface. 

       "Darn it." He reaches down to retrieve it. He feels around where he knows it fell. Gone. Vanished.

        Later we calculate that, perhaps, two seconds elapsed before he reached down for the mouthguard. Two seconds.

        We look everywhere. Lights are turned on. We're on our hands and knees looking under the bed, under the dresser, under the blankets even, doubting now whether we heard a clatter at all.

         An ugly thought pops into our collective consciousness. Michelangelo. Mico took it.

         But how is that possible?

         Slowly, we piece together what must have happened--Mico was under the bed (sleeping in the cat bed). He must have heard the clatter, immediately thought "I'm getting a new toy" and absconded with the mouthguard. 

         Eww. In his mouth. Geez.

         Now, the search expands--a full house search is initiated. First stop includes a thorough search of the guest room across the hall--under the bed--but no mouthguard.

         Time elapses. "We'll never find it," Dan mutters, clearly discouraged.

          We ask Sienna, Mico's sister, but she offers up no new information. 

         But, who wanders in--looking for breakfast. No, not Mico. Theo.

         "Hey, buddy. We need your help."

         A deal is offered--Theo will look for and hopefully find the mouthguard. We'll go downstairs immediately and make him a delicious breakfast.

        Theo hesitates.

        "And," I quickly add, "I'll give you a snack right this minute."

        Theo agrees. (I would have eventually offered the entire bag of Science Diet dried cat food if I had to.) 

        We start to tell Theo where we've already looked, but he's not interested. He eats his snack in one gulp and walks out into the hallway where he proceeds to groom. 

         "Look." I point at Theo with an accusatory finger. "The gangster cat is taking his own sweet time finding your mouthguard."

         "I think we've been scammed," Dan says. "He has no intention . . ."

         But we're wrong. Theo goes to the landing, looks down at the stairs that connect to the first floor, and starts going down. I'm about to call his name, when he stops, leans over and starts coming back up the stairs, carrying the gooey clear-colored mouthguard in his mouth. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor in front of us and saunters off. 

          We have two reactions. One--we're darned glad to have the mouthguard back. Two--we think Theo knew where that darned mouthguard was all the time.  

           But a deal is a deal. A magnificent breakfast is served. After all, he solved The Case of the Missing Mouthguard. And, of course, Mico is nowhere to be found.