My cat Tori. He refused to admit that he was no longer a kitten, and would insist on sleeping in the most inconvenient of places. Like my fruit bowl.
It's my cat (no special breed), named Franz Ferdinand - not sure, if because of the band or the archduke... Anyway, we call him Fedya. The first pic displays Fedya in the washing machine, which was his favourite hide-out during his first weeks at his new home. Now he's a six-and-a-half grown-up kitty, so we're not letting him in there... But seems he still likes it! :)