“You know what Groucho Marx said about black cats: ‘If a black cat crosses your path, it is clearly a sign that the cat is going somewhere.’ Where this black cat hopes he is going is home with you to your place – forever, please. I am Percy, a fine black cat with a fine British name. Did you know that Winston Churchill had a black cat? Also Queen Victoria. And Charles I – but he lost his head. There was a lot of head losing back in Britain in those times.”

“Ah, but more about me – and less about them. Me: I am tall, sleek, and handsome. I walk with poise, dignity, and deliberation. Percy knows who he is, and he is comfortable with himself. He allows that semi-Siamese teenage girl cat to hiss at him. Percy says, ‘There, there, honey, it’s going to be OK.’ Percy is calm and takes charge when charge needs to be taken. Percy is a fine cat, and a black cat, and proud to be a black cat. Percy is excellent.”

“Percy is also one smart cat. Nothing rattles him because he knows what to do. Percy found himself homeless. He can’t quite remember how that happened. But he knew he wanted to find a new and permanent home. Now, some cats just go around scratching their claws on doors until someone takes them in. Not Percy, nope. He strolled straight up to a couple of guys who have been volunteering at Feline Rescue for, like, forever. And Percy said, ‘Hey, guys, I need a new home.’ No muss, no fuss, just knew who would know. Here is Percy, waiting for that new home, and eating well and staying warm while he waits – for You! Oh, yes, You!”

“Percy is so proud to be a black cat. He knows that black cats are the best kind of cats. So gather up your $120 and stop in and adopt me! I am Percy, and I am proud to be Percy!”