The cats would lie in the sun for as long as it would shine through our window. Cats sleep 20 out of 24 hours per day, anyway. Without even a dream twitch, they'd sun bake for as many hours as they could—each hot to the touch, just a fireball hairball with the secret smile of royal satisfaction.

Mom always said they were solar charging.

I live in an apartment now, with giant windows and 100% fewer cats. For a year or so, I've been conjuring ways to flatter my landlord into allowing a solar panel on his use-prohibited roof. Paying rent on time, fixing bad wiring, repainting trim and doors, I've even planted on the shady side of the grounds, fantasizing that my dedication to the green cause, as well as the property, will eventually persuade him. My hope is that, even if he doesn't share the same alternative-energy ideals as I do, perhaps my behavior will inspire his approval—possibly even his aid— to install this building's first solar panel.

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