He was not responsible for that three-car pileup in front of that empty box of salt-water taffy. (Our mantel decor has gotten less formal these days; some might call it "bizarre.")
Earlier, Harris assisted me with wrapping some birthday presents:
Yesterday, my husband put a pair of socks on his dresser as he was getting ready for work. A few minutes later, he couldn't find them, so he took another pair. We found a stray sock near the kitchen, and I remembered seeing Harris tearing over there with something, growling. The other sock turned up in the bedroom. Harris hasn't gone thieving since he stole all of Lion's stuff after he arrived last winter but he still has skills. Maybe he's the one who taught Lion to steal every single straw we leave on the kitchen counter. Harris likes to play with them, too, after the hard work of getting them to the floor is done.
One morning this week, Harris felt my husband was taking too long to shave. All the cats gather outside the bathroom door, waiting for him to come out and serve breakfast. So Harris climbed on a low bookcase by the door, reached up, and pulled down the bathroom's dimmer switch. My husband came out laughing, thinking I'd played a joke on him — and found Harris staring at him under the light switch. Clever Harris.