Shake out your shoes.
Hobbes had a mouse in his mouth when he came up from the basement. (Not a yarn mouse, a real mouse, poor thing.)
He's currently playing cat and mouse in the kitchen by the entrance way where we keep our shoes.
I suspect the mouse may be hiding in the shoes. The door to the bedroom get latched tonight, I don't want Hobbes bringing in any spoils of battle onto the bed tonight. ( As in, "check me out, ain't I the mighty hunter!")