The cat's toys often end up behind the heaviest piece of livingroom furniture.
I spent some time digging them out over the weekend, and I piled all his toy mice next to his window basket.
Later, as he lounged in the sun, he lazily glanced over at the mousy dogpile.
"What do we have here?" he silently wondered. "A mouse... another mouse... wait, what now?"
He sat up.
Reached a paw out of his warm, comfy blanket.
Made a swipe into the lump of mousy goodness.
And scooped out the one mouse *I* had made for him.
Out of all his toys (including the one made with nip), he likes mine best.