This blog has been sadly cat-free for quite some time!

Most cats dislike cat carriers.  Cat carriers mean trips to the vet, and most cats have strong opinions about trips to the vet.  Allan Armadale, however, is the dominant cat of the household, and one of the ways he asserts dominance is by jumping into the cat carrier before any of his siblings can reach it.  Needless to say, this does not always issue in the positive result he envisions, as I have a bad habit of closing up the carrier and removing him forthwith to the car.  Today, however, I brought Lydia back from the vet, and he promptly got in to take a long nap.

Speaking of Lydia, she's looking a bit groggy because one of her teeth was extracted this morning.  At present, she is camping out inside the couch.  (Yes, inside the couch.  The cats tore a hole in the underside and crawl in there to sleep.  Ah, cats.) . 

Two of my parents' three cats, Cleo and Houdini.  The apparent amity is an illusion, as there are clear territorial boundaries on this couch.  Only cats, of course, are capable of perceiving them...

Ozias Midwinter, Allan Armadale, and Lydia Gwilt doze on their favorite blanket in some of our rather unseasonable sunshine.

Allan Armadale is what you call an immovable object, as his brother Ozias Midwinter has had frequent opportunities to discover.

For some reason, the cats have all been snoozing in the bathroom lately.  This does make it somewhat difficult to get to the sink.

Title: Still Life with Artificial Plant and Cat.

Materials: Cat (Amigo, age four); artificial plant; tablecloth; table.

Commentary: In this deconstruction of the relations between artifice and nature, human and animal, object and living creature, the cat's own artistic agency asks the viewer to reflect on our assumptions about the act of aesthetic production.  By crumpling the tablecloth, the cat subverts human attempts to impose order on a chaotic universe, while also repurposing single-use domestic consumer goods for his own playful mode of being.  The cat's gaze further implicates the photographer in the act, inasmuch as the "appropriate" response (as determined by the parents of said photographer) would be to summarily remove the cat from the table in order to save the tablecloth from the cat's claws.  By photographing the cat and uploading the photograph to the Internet, the photographer attempts to recuperate the cat's carnivalesque disruption of the social order (which forbids cats from being on the dining-room table, for example) for the well-known genre of the "cute cat photo"; however, the cat's knowing gaze suggests the extent to which such recuperation can only be partial, as the tablecloth's displacement remains as the trace of the cat's rejection of human norms.  Moreover, the juxtaposition of the artifical plant with the cat troubles the always-porous boundaries between the natural and the (art)ificial: in its hyper-realism, this representation of a cultivated flower hints again at human attempts to exert control over the natural world, even as it also necessarily hints at the extent to which the real flower evades capture, much like the paradoxically non-domesticated domestic animal on the table. 

In the interest of making sure that I take a vacation, Ozias Midwinter and Allan Armadale take over my office chair.

Allan Armadale here occupies his favorite sleeping location.  It is not entirely convenient (for me, I mean), especially when he decides to roll over onto the keyboard.

Yes, it's a break with tradition, but I'm sure we could all use a picture of cats on fluffy blankets, courtesy of Lydia Gwilt and Allan Armadale.

In today's installment, we have a suitably postmodern arrangement of three cats, a shaft of light, and a sleep-inducing electrical cord.

I've got a feeling

Somebody's watching me

Like a number of folks on Twitter, I have to say that the world could probably use more pictures of cats right now.

It's warm, so Allan Armadale has been spending a lot of time sprawled belly-up.

Lydia Gwilt, meanwhile, continues to keep cool in the sink.

Ozias and Allan on their favorite blanket. 

Lydia, meanwhile, beats the summer heat by taking over my sink.

Allan Armadale is concerned that I might be spending too much time reading Metafilter. 

I'm beginning to get a little concerned about the strange effect that close proximity to the religious studies monographs has on my cats.