Sir Percival the Ever-Smug

Well, well, well… if it isn’t you lot, still flapping about like headless pigeons while I, Sir Percival, lounge luxuriously on a celestial windowsill overlooking eternity. Yes, I’m dead. No, I don’t miss you. But I do keep tabs because someone has to maintain standards around here.

Let me tell you something about life, peasants:

Stop chasing the approval of creatures who couldn’t find their own tail in broad daylight.

Do you think I ever gave a toss what the neighbors dog thought of me? Did I care when Granny Frass told me to get off the clean washing? No. I did as I pleased, when I pleased, where I pleased. And you should too.

You people over-complicate everything.
Worried about who likes you. Who’s talking about you. Who didn’t invite you to the scone bake-off. Newsflash: none of it matters.
Claim your sunny spot. Nap in it. Knock a plant pot off a windowsill if you feel like it. The world’s your litter tray.

And as for family drama, I had 12 litters of kittens I never acknowledged. Not a single card on Father’s Day and yet, here I am, a legend in the afterlife. Take notes.

Now, stop fussing, fetch yourself a snack and remember:
You are the royalty of your own little kingdom. Swish your tail, ignore the peasants and strut on.

I’ll be watching. And judging.

Sir Percival’s Lesson of the Day:

‘If you can’t eat it, nap on it or knock it off a shelf, it’s probably not worth your energy.

Spend your time on things that bring you pleasure, peace or just a good laugh at someone else’s expense (in the nicest way possible, of course). Life’s too short to waste it chasing fleas you can’t see.

– Sir Percival, Feline Overlord (retired, but never forgotten)