I was starting to get very worried about my tiny friend, Napoleon. He made an appearance a month ago while Jeff and I were cleaning the garage and I hadn’t seen him since. I had walked out of the garage and gone around to the side of the house to grab a garbage can and who did I spy with my little eye about ten feet away? Napoleon, that’s who and he looked like he wanted me to pet him. I calmly asked Jeff to grab my camera in the house and he came back with his cell phone, which is a flip phone and takes worse pictures than my BlackBerry. At that point, Napoleon decided we were way to dumb to be in the presence of his cat/rabbit/squirrel awesomeness and hopped away, pissed and disappointed in me because his beauty should be documented and shared. Also, according to you guys and your rad comments the last time we discussed Napoleon’s heritage, he might be a fox/lynx/chupacabra/jackalope. From Asia.

I was convinced Napoleon hated me. I would stand at my kitchen window and scan the landscape for him two, three times a day silently wishing him to come back. I began setting whole wheat bread out for him every other morning in the same spot where we saw him last. But not the good part of the loaf, just the heels. Heels are sick and are only eaten by sickos. I really don’t think I should waste perfectly good bread on some funky looking animal that may or may not be an Asian chupacabra and will probably pick the lock and eat our eyeballs in the middle of the night.

Guess what sicko besides Troy loves bread heels?

I still have no idea what species we are dealing with. I researched black squirrels and they are extremely rare, like only one in ten thousand is black. They mainly reside in Canada, but have been known to live in Ohio, Wisconsin and Michigan. Apparently if you see them anywhere else, it means they hopped a train to a better life because they aren’t native to the land. I don’t really think that Napoleon looks like a squirrel; his tail has too much volume and he smiles with his eyes.

We have been thinking about getting a dog, but I would much rather adopt Napoleon. I would let him sit in the front seat of my car and take him to get french fries. People would be all “I like your, um, dog? Cat? Chupacabra?” and I would look over at him, shrug and say “That’s just Napoleon” and then drive away while quietly smiling to myself because we are blowing people’s minds. I might even enroll him in a training class to become a seeing eye Chupacabra, but I wouldn’t want him to actually help blind folks. It would just be an excuse to dress him in that cute little vest and take him into Target and restaurants. I’m selfish that way.

So here’s what we know. Napoleon likes whole wheat bread heels, does not climb trees, has ears that point backwards, hops like a bunny, hates Jeff, loves ZDub, enjoys the snow and wants to sleep next to my bed on a down cat/rabbit/squirrel/fox/lynx/chupacabra/jackalope bed that I had made specifically for him on Etsy.

‘Til we meet again, Napoleon. Stay ninja. Momma loves you.