There are OODLES of cat toys in my house. Cat toys that are largely ignored in favor of non-toy items.
So, this morning, at 3:04 AM, when I was yanked from my blissful sleepyheadedness into the dary and tired world of "WTF time is it and why am I awake?" by a crash-thump-thump, I assumed that someone was playing with non-toys. Since Dawg was asleep by the bed and El Gato was curled up on the nightstand, the guilty party had to be La Doof Kitton.
This crash was too loud to be ignored (yes, sometimes, 3 am crashes are ignored because the damage is already done--I can put the books back on the shelf tomorrow and not have to leave the confines of my warm bed) so we headed in the general direction of the cacophony. I veered through the living room and Mr. G headed through the kitchen and we met next to the microwave cart (on which rest a blender, a toaster, and cat treats) which marks the line between kitchen and living room.
As I looked at La Doof Kitton sitting with a look of pure innocence on the coffee table (the more intensely disinterested and innocent he looks the greater his measure of guilt and destruction) I burst in to the sort of hysterical laughter that one is only capable of when grumpily awakened at 3 am as I asked "WHY is there a toaster in the middle of my living room floor?"
Being unable to answer that question, we returned the toaster to it's home, ignored the toast crumbs spread across the floor (we were hoping Dawg would get them in the morning but I believe vacuuming is in order. But not at 3 am), and dragged our sorry selves back to bed.
(Once in bed, La Doof Kitton came to snuggle. Mr. G suggested we pretend he was a toaster and nudge him off the edge and see if toast crumbs fell out...)