The 96th Carnival of the Cats

Welcome to the 96th Carnival of the Cats. Next week’s carnival will be at Political Fred’s place. But first, I get to talk about a lot of other cats. They can show up on my human’s blog, but they’d better not ever show up in my territory. That’s my patio. And my front porch. And this is my box.

An experiment in cat behavior: Okay, so you can’t leave flowers on the table. My human can’t have a napkin holder on the table. Something about napkins not being cat toys unless she gives them to me.

Chloe, closing your eyes and looking cute doesn’t work if you’re not a kitten. Believe me, I’ve tried it. Again and again. It never results in tunafish.

Pretty Piper: Her human daddy gave her her Valentine’s Day necklace early. I think I’m in love.

Quick! Human mom! Look over there! Yes, there! Gracie’s licking her hot spot again! (Okay, while she’s distracted, go look at these kittens, which look remarkably like I looked as a baby.)

Fergus may be more grown up in this shot, but look fast, before she comes back. Mom always wants to get kittens when she sees pictures of them.

Okay, I’m going to go on record saying that if any other cat could share my turf, Butterscotch would be the one. And my human says she simply loves the blog name. Mensa Barbie. Yeah, math ain’t hard at all.

Rahel found another red, Jewish cat. My human says that’s three great things in one.

Bribery! Sock-stealing! Medicine-spitting-out! New Jersey! This is my kind of cat.

Holy Guacamole! Ilyka put up cat pictures!

Poor Ralph. He’s going on a diet. I know how you feel, Ralph. Here’s a tip: Meow a lot. Don’t give up; you can wear your owner down. I always do.

Sissy Willis’ cat Tiny was having asthma problems. She’s better now. Yay! Gracie has asthma, but hers went away when we moved to our new place that doesn’t have carpets, only wood floors. I don’t mind. You can’t scratch the carpet on the floor anymore, but you can run and slide anytime you want. There’s also cats and bunnies, cats and shoes, and my favorite, cats and supper!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yawning. You and Gracie both think it’s so cool, but anyone can yawn.

Well, hello! That’s a cat’s job, Ellisson.

Ooooh. Pretty. Pretty.

Ew! Kitty snuggles! Ew! Ew!

Cats in water? I like water. I love to go out in the rain, then come back inside, then go out, then come in, then go out, then come in. Because my human wipes me down with a towel every time, and a towel is soft and fluffy–hey, just like me!

Okay, let’s see if I can get these all straight: Went shopping (but didn’t bring back any new cats, phew!). The aftermath (of a catfight, mine’s easy–I always win). Pondering. And playing with cats (I second that motion!)

I don’t see what’s so funny about sleeping upside down. I do it all the time.

Lots of cats sleep upside down.

Hey! This cat looks a lot like me. I wonder if we were littermates? Well, he sure knows how to sleep in the sun. Come to think of it, all cats know how to sleep in the sun. Like Puffball. (Pretty!)

Did someone say sleep? Because that’s what Rhett and Scarlet are doing, and what I’m going to do as soon as I’m finished here.

Orange, fuzzy–what’s not to like?

Okay, Mister Gato is under the kitchen table. But where is my uncle’s pen?

Oh, now, this is just wrong. Cats do not wear clothes. I am reporting these cats to the union.

Ferdinand’s got an interloper. I know how he feels. I heard Mom talking about bringing home another cat. This house isn’t big enough for the three of us. She better not.

Psst–Abby–it’s not a real cat. Sorry.

Hey, I don’t steal blankets–I hide under them, and sometimes I run away from them when they turn into the Blanket Monster.

Clover, are you sure that isn’t the Blanket Monster? It looks awfully close if you ask me.

Huh. My human doesn’t let me play with her clothes, especially her underthings. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t start looking for a new place to stay.

Lucky stiff. My human doesn’t let me stay on the dryer. Probably because I use it as a stepping stone to the top of the fridge.

Hey, at least Abby’s friend was a cat. A monkey friend is downright embarrassing. What? Oh. My human says her first Tig had a hippo for a friend. Never mind.

Wow. Here’s another cat that gets to sleep on warm places my human won’t let me go. Can I move in with you?

All I can say is, if Gracie crawled all over me like that, she’d be runnin’ home to Mom in no time.

Yeah, catnip is cool.

I’m with Feak. Die dog, die.

Hey, three cats in a row! Cool!

Gato’s got a brand new bag. I like bags, too. Especially the crinkly ones to annoy my human with.

Over at Catnabbit!, the rumor mill says Jack Bauer of 24 is going to get his ass kicked by a cat. I don’t doubt it. Cats are way cooler than FBI agents.

Hey! That looks like my human’s computer desk. Well, except she doesn’t let me sit on it.

HA-ha. Someone else’s cat who bit his human at the vet’s, also known as The House Of Pain.

Black cat. Hm. I’d look good with a black cat.

Silly human. Cats have the power to squeeze into the smallest spaces imaginable.

Cats know how to find the warmest places. Yep. We’re smart that way.

Better is good. Sick is bad.

Your cats are French? I’m not French. I’m Amurrican. Maine Coon Cat, baby! I help keep my human warm, too. Mostly because she’s bigger than me and warms me up better.

I keep telling my human, three’s a crowd! Gracie is it for me.

It’s good to showcase one cat at a time.

Hey, nice pose. I do that to my human a lot. Works, too.

I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.

Okay, one more time: Cats. Do. Not. Wear. Clothes.

Yep, that sounds like totally normal cat behavior to me. Why do you ask?

Yay! Hooray! Done with radiation, a pretty bedspread, all this and Tigger, too! (Not me, another Tig.)

Look, another box kitty.

Amen, brother! Cats are working cats! I work just as hard as Maddie does. No, harder, because I’ve actually caught birds!

Well, shyeah! Of course a kitty is going to sit on a newspaper. That’s what they’re for.

Phew. All done. Oh, be quiet, Gracie. Yes, we’re done, I’ll come outside in a little while. I did all the work, not you! I’m taking a break.

(Note from Meryl: If I missed you, please email me at meryl- at – yourish – dot -com and I’ll fix things.)