Years ago when I had only 4 cats (seems like decades ago; wait, it was decades ago), I heard little paws scuffling frantically through the house and I knew that I had to get out of bed and see what the commotion was all about. Some brave but dumb little mouse had gotten into the house and my fur posse decided that it would be more fun to play w/it than eat it. When I found them all, they were gathered in a circle and batting that poor little thing around like a pin pall machine. Just as I stepped in to rescue it, Boo grabbed it and took off running. I trapped him in the upstairs bathroom but, boy, he wasn't willing to let that mouse go. I finally got him to drop it, then I took the mouse outdoors and after examining him to make sure he hadn't been fatally injured (there wasn't a mark on him; my fur posse is good), placed him on the ground so that he could scurry away but he was so petrified that he couldn't move. So there I was, in the middle of the night, sitting outdoors, holding a mouse telling him "it's ok, you're safe now, go home to mommy". So I can sympathize w/ya, believe me. At that time we lived on 5 acres in farm country, so mice were always around but they were at least smart enough not to venture into the cat hotel. Be prepared for more of the same.