Okay another story from the world of cats for me. I'll reminisce a bit about Hopper. The biological brother of Squeaky Toy.

Where have all the pens and pencils gone? That was a frequent question when Hopper was still around. You could never find any instrument of writing. But there was a trick to retrieving them as we found out. Laying out a blank piece of paper.

I was trying to jot down a quick shopping list, and as usual there wasn't pen or pencil one to be found in the house. Frustrating since we had just picked up a package of pens. So I set down the paper I would have written my list down on and went on the hunt. Now my DH and I both had been coming across various 'scribbles' on sheets of paper and both thought the other had been bored or something.

But regardless, I returned to the living room from my futile hunt for a pen, and sure enough, on the paper that I was going to write my list on, was a ton of scribbles and more so there was a pen on the floor beside the coffee table. Haunted house??? I grabbed the pen before it could disappear again and went off to grab another sheet of paper for my shopping list.

Shopping list done, and nothing else really to do, I decided to do a bit of ghost hunting. So I laid out another sheet of paper on the coffee table and headed around the corner into the kitchen. Nothing happened... guessed the ghosts were shy, about the only thing I saw was my Hopper, hopping up onto the coffee table and inspecting the piece of paper left out.

I gave up and headed further into the kitchen to grab a drink, came back around the corner just in time to see Hopper jumping off the coffee table. But more than that, I saw a pencil this time hitting the floor as he jumped off the table. I went over and sure enough the same scribbles we'd been finding were on the sheet of paper.

I grabbed the pencil, and went after another sheet of paper. Laid it out on the coffee table and with more patience waited to see exactly what was happening.

The darling which was my Hopper once more jumped up and inspected the paper before hopping back off the table. I chose not to follow him to his apparent 'cache' of pens and pencils but waited for his return. He came trotting back down the hallway, pen in mouth and hopped up on to the table and proceeded to grab the pen between his two paws while still holding the back of it with his mouth, then dragged his paws down the paper, making the same scribbles we'd been finding throughout the house.

I jumped out at him, but didn't scold him, which was fine since he was already looking up at me with a 'busted' face. His response was to give a little meow, and loud purr and look down at his masterpiece with what could only be considered satisfaction.

For the rest of Hopper's life time if anyone needed to find a pen or pencil, we only had to lay out a sheet of paper and let him doodle a bit first.