It was about about 5:00 AM as I was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, sweating like a pig. The fan was on, but it did nothing to fight the heat and humidity. Apart from the fan humming and the obnoxious birds outside chirping their cheerful little heads off, it was relatively quiet. I was just about to drift off to sleep when I heard a loud crash coming from downstairs.
I didn't bother to check - I had a good idea of what happened. One of the cats probably had a spell and started flailing all over the place, knocking over a book, chair, or priceless vase in the process. I sighed, images of furballs dancing in my head. But at that moment, I also had my first revelation.
Cats are aliens.
It wasn't the first time the idea had come up, but it was the first time I gave it serious thought. I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? The way they spazz out at random hours during the night, how they're supposedly nocturnal but they sleep 25 hours a day, why giving a cat a bath is funny, but dangerous (for the humans). They're both parts weird and cute - and perhaps there's a reason for it.