At some point in the last two years or so, we managed to acquire a certain toy for the cats. They have a lot of toys, I should point out. Far too many toys, in all likelihood, but what can you expect from seven spoiled-rotten felines? But I digress. This one particular toy is a stuffed black bat, with little glued-on felt eyes and felt wings. What makes this toy stand out from all the others is that not only has it withstood the normally destructive forces of she-who-shreds-all-things-fuzzy, but it travels.
We know this, you see, because Richard is, in his own words, studying its migratory path (back off, girls! He's all mine!). He tosses it down the stairs every few days and then we get to watch it slowly work its way back up the stairs, a few steps at a time before it appears somewhere in the bedroom or the computer room.
Richard is betting that Sebastian is the travel 'agent', so to speak. But I have to admit my vote's on Rosemary. Not only does she like to carry things around in her mouth (while beeping in her most pathetic manner), but also I think she's simply lulling us into a false sense of security. One of these days we are going to find the bat in a million teeny little pieces, same as the rainbow pompom toys and my poor little dish sponge before it. All cat toys that enter this household are destroyed eventually. I just have to be patient.