The Truth About Cats
Or, at least as much as they'll allow me to tell you
You've probably figured out by now that cats play a very large part in my life. Actually, they play a very large part in everyone's' life, but not everyone has figured this out yet.
See, there is a lot more to a cat than what we see -- or what it allows us to see. Only a few of us know the truth, and it isn't because they told us, either. It's because we've caught them a few times when they didn't think we were looking.
To cut directly to the chase, cats are in reality hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional beings, and what we see of them is just the part of their three dimensional projection that they allow us to see.
This naturally raises a few questions, starting with... why?? If they're so all-fired pan-dimensional and clever, and everything, why do they even bother coming here?
The answer is pretty simple, actually. Being a pan-dimensional being is damn hard work, and keeping track of all those pan-dimensions can be pretty tiring. Sooner or later, one of them is going to need a break, and that's where we come in. They created Earth as a three dimensional vacation resort. They come here to chill out. We're here to cater to them. Anyone who's ever owned a cat either knows this or has long suspected this. Think of Earth as "Catnip-world," and us as large non-furry play-toys (my cat sure does).
Anyway,
they have to be pretty damned smart and pan-dimensional, because there isn't any other
rational explanation for why so many people (like me) love them so much.
There are a few snags in this three dimensional projection of theirs. One is that they have to disguise their three dimensional form from us by way of mass-hypnosis. The problem is that they're actually eight legged, and it wasn't until after they created the Earth and started moving in that they discovered there was a bug in their code. Humans, the caretakers, are severely arachnophobic, and it took thousands of years to even get one to approach a cat, much less pick it up. So, sometime in our pre-history, they resorted to mass-hypnosis to hide half their legs.
We
can detect that they actually have eight legs on two occasions. One is when we hear them
run across a wooden floor, or some hollow surface. The noise they make simply cannot be
explained with fewer than eight limbs. The other way we detect their true shape is when we
try to put one in a cat carrier. Anyone who's ever tried to put a cat into a carrier
(particularly if it's in preparation for castration) knows what I'm talking about here.
The other trouble with their three dimensional projection is that they didn't
leave any room in that kitty-cranium for brains. An MRI study would reveal that for most
cats, their central nervous system consists of a brain stem topped by a rubber grommet,
and that's it. Some extremely fortunate cats might actually have some limbic structures,
which only makes them more trouble to deal with, but that's as far as it ever goes.
So, despite their being the most intelligent creatures on earth (ranking above humans, dolphins, and even laboratory mice), their three dimensional implementation tends to be rather stupid at times.
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