The other day the boy came home from the gym. I had left for work about 20 minutes earlier. He found the cats like this:
They had apparently gotten the treats down off the top of the armoire, which is over 6 feet tall. There were no stools or boxes nearby, nothing for them to climb up on to get these treats. The armoire is alone in a room as that is the only room I have packed thus far (ah, procrastination, how I love thee). I have come to the only logical conclusion that my cats have learned how to fly. See, look at the black one's eyes. He's up to somethin'. Somethin' involving dark magic or other cat fancies.
This does not bode well for me. Next thing I know they'll be having parties while I'm out or getting their driver's license. Not good, not good at all.