Clawdia adopted this torn plastic bag last November, and she still naps on it quite often. Why? I have no idea, but she wrote about it HERE, calling it her "holey" bag. When she tried to exit it one day through that handle in front of her, I had to cut the "handles" off. Her head went through nicely — and her front feet — but the rest of her body got stuck, pulling the thing along with her as she walked through the apartment. But it's hers, as she told the world. Her very own possession.