So I'm going downstairs to try to find my copy of New Scientist so I can take it to bed with me. I sleep with Science, you know. And there on the armchair are two cats. This is not particularly unusual, because Christopher and Othello enjoy attacking me with cute in the middle of the night.
But they're sitting next to each other, and their tails are entwined.
This is simultaneously the cutest and the gayest thing ever. I think it has killed me, and I am now a ghost typing away at my keyboard trying to communicate with the living. And what is my message?