When a colleague came back after work one evening last week to pick up some contract valuations, I apologised lamely for the crumpled toilet-mat on the hall floor. So far today, it's remained upstairs, on the landing outside my study. Together with a carrier bag he's brought from the kitchen.
The toilet mat, plastic carrier bags and an old wooden curtain ring are now ASBO's toys of choice; the toilet mat to be dragged from the pedestal to a convenient place to be rolled in and fight with, the plastic carrier to wear (if he gets his head through a handle he can gallop from one end of the place to the other making, as far as he's concerned, the most satisfying noise) and the curtain ring is dropped down the stairs, pursued, retrieved, brought to the top again and re-dropped.
Yes, he's got expensive shop-bought cat toys which he disdains. He's got the whole garden, which amuses him for a while. But best of all he's got a toilet mat and a curtain ring. Sigh.