I look at my cats, their separate personalities, their habits. Their facial expressions, pleas for food. And I think, my god, life is incredible. The "lifeforce", I mean. The difference between my cat and my stuffed Linux penguin, Tux. Then I remember that I, too, am alive. And I'm completely blown away.
Imagine the existential fits I'll have when I'm pregnant, if I can barely comprehend the life of a cat. Not to mention the resulting baby. INSANITY.
