Phoebe has this toy. It's this burgandy and white ball thing that someone knitted and donated to SICSA and when I adopted Phoebe last summer, the toy came with her. There is something about this toy that makes Phoebe CRAZY. Usually, the toy sits on the floor and she completely ignores it. Unless it's 4 AM. That's when I wake up to this godawful meowing that sounds like a baby being slowly strangled or shoved into a small cabinet or something. I try to ignore it, but finally I have to get out of bed, take the toy from her and put it somewhere she can't reach it, then I go back to bed and forget about it.
Which is why, this morning when I got dressed, I was really confused to find this mangled, knitted, frayed cat toy in my underwear drawer.