Old story, may not qualify. Something like 30ish years ago when I was but a young lad, I had some stuffed animals on a shelf that my dad had won from the claw machine on bowling nights. That takes dedication right there. Anyway one was a small, slightly fuzzy brown dog.

The cat decided to "this is mine now" with it and her preferred hiding place was under the parents' bed. My mother world constantly find it when cleaning, give it back, and tell me to put it away. Cat came back and took it again. Every. Single. Time.

Eventually I just gave up and let her keep it. My mom had to restitch the neck several times because that's where cats grab kittens when carrying them around.