Like any child reared on ‘90s Disney movies , I thought having a woodland creature as a best friend was something I could expect. My childhood home has a decent plot of woods in the backyard where deer, birds, and the occasional rabbit were always stopping by to lie down in a warm patch of sunlight. I assumed (incorrectly) that birds and mice would come help me get dressed in the morning and be my friends à la Cinderella and Snow White . Never mind that whenever a mouse appeared in our actual house, my mother would scream bloody murder. Or that when we were spotting a mouse a day in my college apartment, we thought for a second “hold on, these lil guys could be our confidantes and stylists!” I still dreamed of my very own Gus Gus , faithful friend, lover of food kernels twice his size, and mortal enemy of Lucifer the cat.