Nightime sweet nothings

Last night, I was in bed when Mr. G came to bed and La Doof Kitton decided to 'sleep' with him (La Doof Kitton's definition of sleep varying greatly from our definition of sleep.

I heard a conversation (I'm afraid I couldn't hear La Doof Kitton's side, you'll have to settle for just Mr G's) that went rather like this:

"Awww, you want to snuggle. What a sweet kitteh catus.
*
It's very adorable and cute that you want to sleep with your face on my cheek but my lungs object to you completey coverin both my nose and my mouth.
*
I showered today, you do not need to lick my face and hands until the bleed.
*
Quit hogging the pillow. You are 1/50th my size, you don't need 90% of it.
*
If you continue licking my scalp, you will give me a receeding hairline.
*
GAH, put those claws in when you try to poke me.
*
[At this point, EL Gato joined them and much growling ensued--from El Gato]
And dangit, quit picking on you sister (El Gato). I'm gonna be clawed to pieces.
Picking on your sister's tail still counts as picking on your sister. Knock it off
..."

At this point, I drifted off to sleep (happy that, for once, La Doof Kitton slept w/ Mr. G instead of me) and didn't wake back up again until morning; whereupon I found the door closed and the cats on the other side of it. Apparently they were eventually not allowed to 'sleep' with us.

The bugger can (kinda) open drawers.

Since I've had some health issues in the last year, I keep some handy-dandy personal items in the nightstand drawer--info that I input onto my various spreadsheets to track my health (I might not be healthy but I'm a nerdy sort of not healthy), hair clips , a book, etc.

For each of the last 3 nights, I have gone into the bedroom to look up my info, closed the drawer *most* of the way, and come in to the office to enter my data.

For each of the last 3 nights, I have been interrupted in my data entry by odd noises; upon investigation the noises turn out to be hair clips in the jaws of La Doof Kitton.

For each of the last 3 nights, I chase him around the house, retrieve my items, and return to the bedroom to find the drawer standing open.

Apparently, a wee paw can fit in there and push it open farther so he can get to the buried treasure of small plastic choking hazards (which have the added benefit of blending into the carpet and causing great amounts of pain and swearing and hopping on one foot when the humans of the house find them, barefoot, at 2 am)

Since he's smart, the first time he tried to play with the clip in the bedroom--close enough I heard it immediately. The second time, he took it farther away, into the hallway--farther away and harder to hear. This time, he took it into the living room and I probably wouldn't have heard it if Dawg hadn't been busily trying to steal this new choking hazard toy from La Doof Kitton (Dawg lacks an understanding of subtlty; I think her quietest form of communication is "loud stage whisper)--La Doof Kitton would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for that meddling mutt!