My old house ended up with a mouse problem in the utility room (which was weird, we couldnt find where they were coming from, and never any mouse evidence in any other room, so we could only guess it was because it was warm? The mice were pretty skinny) And my single orange brain cell absolutely loved playing with them if they ignored the set traps and crawled under the door. He would play and play and play, until I guess the mouse simply died of exhaustion or maybe being chomped just right.

Anyway, it was dead, and he'd still bat it around, and eventually I'd hear him yowling as if he'd lost a toy somewhere he can't reach, and sure enough he batted the dead mouse under the couch down there.

To this day, toy mice are by far his favorite thing to play with. He'll play with feathered wands and catnip kickers, but a toy mouse he'll play with alone or with you any time of day for up to a couple hours at a time.