Mew has some tough tissue paper that she got for Christmas. It isn't really made from paper although it rustles most satisfactorily when she jumps on it. Mew should thank Zeta. She's the person who used it for packing inside a gift box.
When the stuff is sufficiently shredded and worn, It will disappear. This happens to her own personal boxes, too. They have to be spirited away while she is occupied in another room. If she is watching when one is picked up, she is devastated. If one just disappears, she does not seem to miss it. Of course, every box that comes into the house automatically becomes her own, personal property.
We rotate her toys so she is used to the occasional disappearance. Some of 'em just don't get rotated back . . .