Or anything box-like. This week, Chia has been found in a waste-basket, the grocery bag I just emptied, the basket I store books to donate in, my new boot basket, my spare bedding box, and the cupboard I'd just taken the flash attachment out of.
And underneath a kitchen cart, too.
Schrodinger picked the right animal to put in his quantum box. Except that the cat has nine lives, so she is always alive.
(The camera sees. I should have dusted the inside of the door frame. Dings and scratches are ok; this cupboard was my grandmother's in her honeymoon house; it's entitled. But the dust is my fault. It's gone now.)