Any Cat Named "Percival" Is Just Asking For A Beating.

Yesterday morning we went out to the park and bumped into Winnie and Q on the Long Meadow. Because our people couldn't manage to get it in gear and out of the house before the off-leash hours ended, we couldn't properly chase each other and shag fly balls and wrestle and wriggle on our backs in the grass all the other things we were born to do. Uh uh. So we ended up taking a loooooong walk around the Meadow. Thelma & I walked Winnie & Q home and when we got there, Winnie proceeded to stare down this cat that was sitting on the window sill on the ground floor. The offensive feline, named Percival (I'm serious!) was meowing loudly and making aggressive paw gestures at Winnie until she finally lunged and barked at him. I don't know why Winnie's person didn't drop the leash; that cat was deliberately trying to open a can of whoop-ass with those smelly, scratchy claws of his. Q was chilling on the curb, so I bolted toward the stoop and barked along with my girl Winnie, which made the stupid cat meow louder and Q finally took notice and joined in the barking and we were so ready to tear through the screen window and have at ol' Percy, but the humans pulled hard at our leashes and pulled us away. Then Winnie & Q went upstairs and I had to go home with Thelma. I ask you, is that right? No it is not. Winnie said Percy sits by the window every morning to "greet" her & Q when they leave and again when they return. Get a life, Perce! And get a real name while you're there.