Nothing escapes cats. Not even while they are sleeping, because they actually never sleep. That is far too human a thing to do. They are quite un-human, especially when gracefully floating along showing off that they had already reached the next stage of evolution where defying gravity was normal.
To them these humans stalking precariously on two thin, long stick-things called legs,
– sometimes even extended to the verge of toppling by silly, long attachments to the soles of the feet, – balancing a body that to them always looked like it was ill-proportioned and on the verge of tilting or falling, – kept in balance and upright only by the odd angulation of various body parts hinged on joints like knees, hips, back and neck, – strangely without wings, which most other two legged creatures had for the very reason of poise and grace and of course for other much more important evolved activities like flying and soaring, and that would have made the world of difference in maintaining some dignity in presentation and movement,
– was probably an experiment of nature gone haywire, especially when comparing their cat-babies’ innate ability to move on all fours from the earliest age onwards to that of human babies’ lack of any perceivable abilities, which, well, as they (the cats) saw all around, took forever to get off their bum and then, oh dear, with an array of predictable and unavoidable accidents, miraculous escapes and painful crashes culminating in screams and cries and other bigger stick like variants rushing around continuously in a fluffing-flap without wings, – endangering themselves and everything else as they attempted rescue operations they were never, respectfully, designed to attempt, causing the rapid withdrawal of all but the most relaxed Garfields.
Humans, huh, somehow they survived and the sleek super-cats had to fight for survival.
Odd, very odd indeed.
(Picture credit Hannes Lochner)