How many Famous Cats on our cover can you name? They are, clockwise, starting at Pink Panther—
Pink Panther
Puss in Boots
The Cat In the Hat
Krazy Kat
Kliban’s cat in red sneakers
Cheshire Cat
Hello Kitty
Hobbes (of Calvin and Hobbes)
Tom (of Tom and Jerry)
A Gorey Cat
The Goddess Bastet
Peg’s Cat (of Peg+Cat)

Grumpy Cat
When we first saw this image, we assumed it had been Photoshopped, But no! The grump’s real name is Tardar Sauce, so dubbed (and misspelled) by her owner’s 12-year-old daughter.

Feline dwarfism causes the upsidedown smile.
Tardar Sauce wobbles a bit when she walks due to elongated rear legs. Her owners say she is otherwise well and—appearance to the contrary—happy.

Mark Twain on cats
That’s the way with a cat, you know—any cat; they don’t give a damn for discipline. And they can’t help it, they’re made so. But it ain’t really insubordination, when you come to look at it right and fair—it’s a word that don’t apply to a cat. A cat ain’t ever anybody’s slave or serf or servant, and can’t be—it ain’t in him to be. And so, he don’t have to obey anybody. He is the only creature in heaven or earth or anywhere that don’t have to obey somebody or other, including the angels. It sets him above the whole ruck, it puts him in a class by himself. He is independent. You understand the size of it? He is the only independent person there is. In heaven or anywhere else. There’s always somebody a king has to obey—a trollop, or a priest, or a ring, or a nation, or a deity or what not—but it ain’t so with a cat. A cat ain’t servant nor slave to anybody at all. He’s got all the independence there is, in Heaven or anywhere else, there ain’t any left over for anybody else. He’s your friend, if you like, but that’s the limit—equal terms, too, be you king or be you cobbler; you can’t play any I’m-better-than-you on a cat—no, sir! Yes, he’s your friend, if you like, but you got to treat him like a gentleman, there ain’t any other terms. The minute you don’t, he pulls freight. —from The Refuge of the Derelicts

Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) 1836-1910, liked and admired cats. He kept eleven of them at his farm in Connecticut. Some of the cats’ names: Sour Mash, Apollinaris, Zoroaster, Blatherskite, Beelzebub.

At the time of the author’s death, “The Refuge of the Derelicts” was one of several incomplete, unpublished works. Twain worked on it during the Spring of 1905 and the Summer of 1906.