Now, why do we have cable again?

The cats were in Full Martian Mode last night.

George Carlin used to argue that the Martians had landed, that they were three feet tall and visible only to cats. This was the only way to explain the fact that cats - normally creatures sedentary enough to qualify as paperweights - would, at random intervals, arch their backs, hiss, and run amok like invading armies through France.

And when you have two cats, well. There you go.

The girls were asleep and Kim and I were getting ready for bed when a thundering herd of cats began roaring through our house. They shot into our bedroom, ricocheted off the walls, bounced off the bed, and then hurtled off into the hallway, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, fur standing on end. Keeping us safe from Martians. "Now's your chance," Kim said.

Now, the other thing you have to know for this story is that Kim and I have had low-grade cruds for the last week or so. Coughing, sore throat, stuffy nose, the whole nine yards of autumn awfulness. So a couple of nights ago we decided to put a humidifier in our room, and it has worked wonders. We sleep much better. We especially sleep better because in order for the humidifier to work, we have to shut the door - to keep those nice humidified vapors inside, where they'll do some good, you see. This in turn keeps the cats - blanket hogs, the both of them - out.

Double win.

So, Kim says to me, "Now's your chance," and I go shut the door. Vapors in; cats out; all is well. We lie there in bed, cooing that soft pillowtalk that old married couples do ("What's the schedule tomorrow?" "Don't forget to take Lauren to her checkup." And so on), and listening to the clattering rampage of little furry feet through the house.

And then - WHAM!

New discovery: our bedroom door resonates at about a G sharp when rammed by a cat. Or cats.

And they hit it, too. The room shook. Dust fell from the ceiling. Seismographers at nearby universities jolted upright. Nobody woke the President, because really what good would that do?

Anyway, so much for the vaunted night vision of felines.

Naturally, Kim and I did what any cat owner would do in such a situation - we laughed until our sides hurt. Eventually I recovered enough to go open the door to see if there were any broken and bleeding bodies out in the hallway, but there were none to be had. And at about that time the thundering herd started up again, downstairs this time.

Cats - nature's standing refutation of the whole notion of the "survival of the fittest."