his name is diablo. it fits him better than his previous name: pudding. he’s a smooth operator. a handsome devil. he’s a cuddler. he’s a head-butting fool. he is one of the reasons i still manage to smile despite it all.
i wasn’t looking to get another cat, but the moment i saw his picture, i melted. he looks like little noel doesn’t he?
hard to believe that my little girl has been gone for over 2 years now, but something tells me, she’s still around. saving my life again and again.
see, she saved my life more than once. noel was the one little being that always loved me– even when she was pissed in that way that kitty cats can get. when i was in the deepest throes of depression several years ago–the time i finally managed to get help–i was seriously, fully, truthfully, thoughtfully, considering ending my life. knowing that noel was depending on me for the basics of food and shelter caused me to hesitate on that path just long enough to do something to prevent it. it is grotesquely funny, but i was terrified that if i offed myself that no one would find me for quite some time and that noel would get hungry and, well…….she’d eat what was left if she got hungry enough. it seems like i saw an episode of CSI or read some true crime thing (most likely) where left behind pets began to eat the corpse of their dearly departed masters when the food ran out. that’s the thing that kept me from going down that particular dark path. funny but gross, right? well, it worked. i’m still not kitty snacks.
the new kitty’s name is a play on words. ironic comedy. an inside joke. he’s the furthest thing from the devil he could possibly be.