Bonjour again, my Nestie friends. It is I, Napoleon. That's right, the same Little Man with a “complex” you heard from a couple of weeks ago, regaling you with my tale of cookies and hydrogen peroxide.

You act shocked, but I’m sure you knew I would be back to confess another of my many sins. If you had my stunningly handsome looks, you’d be munching through as much aromatic trash as you could sneak and destroying shoes like it’s your JOB (well, okay, it is my job)…while simultaneously charming the pants off of your people. Yep, I’m just that talented.

My most recent feat involves one of my favorite illicit toys: used socks.

In France, we voyage everywhere au naturel -- because human smell contains that certain je ne sais quoi. Naturally, then, I began to covet my people’s used clothing, covered in that same irresistible human aroma. But to my frustration, my people never allow me anywhere near it. It began to hound me: their already-worn things sit bunched up, unused in a stinky bin, when they could go to good use (me). That was until I learned that all bets are off when the lights go out.

My first successful heist was accomplished after a long’s day’s sleep. I was dozing off again in my nest when I saw a single, still-warm sock lying all alone on the floor. My people had had a lot of wine to drink that evening, so I knew they were fast asleep. I trotted over, trapped it with one bite, and dashed back to my bed.

Safe with my prize!

Contentedly chewing my salty nugget, I suddenly realized that I could have as much tasty human refuse as my little nest could fit! So I went over to the stinky bin and pulled them out one by one -- used socks, T-shirts, underpants…and, for good measure, my person’s eyeglasses. I breathed in all the au naturel smell I could inhale and fell into nocturnal cat-chasing mode.

The next morning, I awoke with a start: my people pushing my bed around, laughing. I looked up, innocent-like -- “What could I, your handsome little man, ME?! have possibly done?”

I didn't have a chance to guard my stash before my lady person hoisted me up and gave me a little scolding while the Big Man confiscated the goods from my bed.

Now, you might ask, “Why, Napoleon, did you not fight to win back your hard-earned territory?” Because I think I want to awake like this every day for the rest of my life. There’s nothing better than starting your day with full attention on you.

So, for the past weeks, this has become my nightly routine. My people call my goodie-filled nest my “Pawn Shop,” and it's true: Will trade dirty laundry for pats. They’ve tried several aversion tactics, but to no avail. And I have to say, this might be my most brilliant coup yet. 

Any of you had such good luck stealing your people's stuff?

Your pet got a confession to make? Send the details with photo and your Nestie username to pets@thenest.com to come clean in an upcoming confessional.

-- Colleen Canney

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