:::looks at poster, looks at self, decides in surprise that poster must simply be self living in parallel universe:::
I had a nearly identical experience with my cat, except it was his hind leg that got caught.
He’d decided he had enough of playing Cave Kitty and attempted to exit the bag. As he did so, THE BAG FOLLOWED HIM :eek:. I was in the kitchen, and the first I learned of this was when the cat came bolting into the kitchen, and THE BAG WAS CHASING HIM :eek: :eek: :eek: . My first thought was that the other cat was inside the bag, but I quickly realized this was not possible for the reasons you describe above. It took a couple minutes before I was able to stop laughing long enough to try to pursue him and rescue him - by which time he’d managed to tear free after running all over the house trying to escape from the Demon From Hell.
We didn’t see him for several hours after that, as he was hiding from the Evil Bag Of Satan.
Another toy failure: we bought a wind-up hopping rabbit (small, about the size of a hamster) when a shop had them at Easter. We figured “furry, moves, what’s not to love?”.
The cat took one look and bolted. Evidently toys are not supposed to move on their own. Fortunately, we didn’t have any problems with real rodents as clearly this cat would have been useless in dealing with the problem!
The most successful cat toy was… a shadow. Light, plus shadow on floor cast by nearly anything (preferably a hand, as that could make the shadow move), meant instant attack-target for the cat. We could play with him by simply waggling fingers 4 feet away. He’d slam both front paws on the target to pin it down, then look confused that there didn’t seem to be anything there. We’d move fingers again, and he’d go for the new location. This could go on for hours! It got to the point where we had to close the bathroom door at night, because he’d go in and play in the shadows from the nightlight.
Oh, yeah, Eddles once got a plastic bag stuck around his neck due to his own dumbassness. He tears around the house knocking everything over, I’m trying to catch him to let him go, dinner is burning, finally he ends up under the bed where the other cat said something mean to him or something and they start screaming and hissing while staring at each other with their tails puffed up and their ears down. Which they never do, they’re best friends. I was actually kind of scared to touch them. I removed the other cat and then caught the plastic bag with the end of a stick, because I honestly thought he might bite me. He was so scared he’d peed all over the bag, too. It was hours before they’d speak to each other again. Very traumatic.
