(aka--The cat toy industry is a big, fat joke.)
The other night, my husband and I were sitting in the computer room, minding our own business. He was playing a game on his computer and I was reading or cross stitching. Thrasher had wandered off somewhere, but suddenly came back in, pouncing on something and batting it around. I sort of glanced over at the cat. I couldn't see what he had, so I figured he was just playing with an imaginary bug (if you own cats, you know this game--they chase things that aren't there). In any case, he definitely did not have anything that he shouldn't have.
Well, Thrasher continued to play with whatever this was for a really long time. At least 20 minutes, which I believe is the human equivalent of 2 1/2 weeks. He'd go out in the hall with it, back into the computer room. Out into the hall, into the bathroom, back to the hall, back to the computer room. He even managed to get the whole way out to the living room and then back to the computer room. At this point, I'm getting really curious about what on earth he has since I don't ever remember him playing with something for this long. So I look down. The big, giant goober has (I swear, I'm not making this up) a 1 centimeter square piece of toilet paper.
I could have saved a lot of money on cat toys and just bought a roll of Charmin.