"Pet Tails": where is he?

Sylvester is realistically the youngest of my cats, and also (perhaps as a consequence?) he's also the most unpredictable. The other four most of the time I can predict many of their habits and routines and favorite things, but Sylvester is sometimes like.... He reminds me of that old-time child's toy of the windup box and the clown on a spring inside. Just when you think you know it's going to pop out, it waits and waits and then jumps out and surprises you. Similarly, Sylvester is just as full of surprises.

The cats and I moved from a smaller residence to our current apartment here, where - while not grand in size itself - is certainly bigger than where we last lived. Thus it has allowed for more places for the cats to be exploring and to make as their lounge spots. Porkey likes to habitat the right end of the couch. Tabby enjoys the cat bed usually placed on the bed after it's made. Athena enjoys the overturned clothes basket on top of a stack of storage totes that I have fitted with a blanet inside. Whiskers....he enjoys laying on the floor mats in the bathroom. Sylvester? He has a few and its hard to ever say for sure where he'll be.

Is he laying on top of the jungle-gym stand?

Is he laying in the bathroom on top of the toilet seat?

Is he laying on the blanket on top of the old television stand sitting right in front of one of the windows facing south (thus getting most amount of sunlight)?

Is he laying on top of my pillow?

Is he laying under the blankets on the bed?

Is he under the bed?

Is he stretched out relaxing in the bathtub?

Its hard to ever say. This very morning as my breakfast was cooking on the stove, I looked in the bedroom and noticed that I had failed to straighten up the blankets and sheets. I had time to do it, I thought. So I went to first begin with the unorganized corner of the bed nearest to the window in the bedroom and was about to straighten them up when I noticed....there was someone under the blankets.

A little black and white haired paw was sticking out from underneath the top blanket. Slowly lifting up the blanket to look under must have disturbed him as I was immediately greeted with a pair of wide open eyes and this quick yelp-like meow. That wasn't a pillow, that wasn't a fluff of blankets piled up. It was that cat food eatin', pillow hoggin', tub snorin', beggin' for ham, treat snortin', sufferin suckatash and tweety-bird huntin' Sylvester cat.

I just can never expect to know where to find him next. Kinda like "Where's Waldo?" but worse.