Merci: Hey, Percy, what are you doing on the roof of Marcus's Private Dining Car?
Percy: This is my Private Lounge. What do you think I'm doing?
Merci: Lounging? Or contemplating the mess you made?
Percy: Both, I guess. Jan had the nerve to lay some things down on my Lounge and I kicked them to the curb, so to speak.
Marcus: I hope you remember to tell Jan I did not make the mess.
Taylor: Looks like Marcus photobombed your mess, Percy. He's everywhere. And usually in trouble.
Merci: Yes, and Jan sure was upset with him late Monday night when he was running around the crate and Percy was stretched out on his Lounge screaming at him.
Marcus: I told you all I didn't do anything to Percy and none of you believed me.
Taylor: Habit, but Jan caught on very quickly that Percy wasn't screaming in anger. He was in pain!
Merci: What happened? By the time I got there it was over.
Marcus: Percy was lying where the newspaper is in the picture. His back paw had gone between the wire, twisted and come through another opening. He couldn't move, only scream.
Taylor: Before Jan could get to him, Marcus the Menace, who loves to torment us cats, ran around the crate, stood on his hind legs and started licking Percy's head.
Merci: Jan stood Percy up and leaned him the other way. He was able to pop his paw loose.
Percy: You were nice to me, Marcus. And Micah too. I was so relieved to be free, I leaped onto the cat tower and suddenly realized I was too close to Micah, but he didn't whap me on the head and chase me away like he normally does.
Marcus: How is your foot? With all that screaming I thought sure it was broken, but you haven't been limping, so I take it you're okay.
Taylor: I hope he learned his lesson and the next time Jan puts down something soft for him to lie on in his Private Lounge, he won't toss it to the floor.
Percy: I'm a mancat. I don't do soft.
Merci: Of course you don't. Not when anyone is looking, anyway.