Laying awake in bed last night, I recalled a somewhat strange incident earlier in the evening. When I let in the sister cats, Clea and Babette, for their evening moist meal, Clea became quite interested in S's sneakers on the floor by the door. She was pushing and pushing at them, and even stuck her snout inside, which I thought thoroughly disgusting. (Don't be rubbing that snout on my hand in the future.) I finally had to pick her up and carry her downstairs to supper - most odd, as she usually leads the parade, and even scarfs Babette's uneaten food (whether Babs is trying to eat it or not). I couldn't imagine what sneaker aroma could possibly be so interesting.
Thinking back, I now suspect our visiting baby mouse (http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.ch/2015/09/the-mouse-that-snored-part-1.html and http://theexpatwriter.blogspot.ch/2015/09/mouse-safari-ii.html) was inside the sneaker, and from there later tip-toed into the living room while we were watching the telly.
Twice during the night I staggered downstairs to see if the cats had dismantled Mortimer. Not a chance. The first time, I found Babette casually lounging on the couch. The second time, Clea was enjoying the soft chair.
The mouse was no doubt holed up somewhere safe, hopefully having nightmares about being trapped in an old sneaker.