I am a clean individual, and I recognize that sometimes they just live in and around buildings. And they’re undeniably cute, and harmless, if you aren’t licking them and your food is all put away.

I just saw the first mouse of the year in my living room in my new apartment. I can’t imagine my delight will be shared by my roommates, so tomorrow I’ll google humane ways to mouseproof. But for the time being, it’s nice to have a little company.

In the Shoreland, the ancient hotel-turned-dorm where I lived my first two years, there were two who often visited late at night. They kept me company when I was up all night writing papers.

He appeared by the ottoman by my feet. “No!” I said. “You have to go! Jessie is afraid of you.” He skittered around a little more, explored a corner, and vanished under the doorframe heading to the porch. Maybe he lives in the lot out back.

As I was typing he just came back, but I told him “No!” again and he ran away. Smart little thing.

What should I name him?