Little Devil

Please welcome Diablo (dee-ahb-low) the black devil kitty to our hospitality crew. 

Dan wanted to buy me a kitten for my birthday, but as this significant date occurs during the middle of harvest, it was nearly Christmas before we began to look around for kittens--and December is not exactly lambing season for furry mammals.  I wanted a fluffy, grey, spunky female kitten.  But the last kitten left in Paso Robles before Christmas was a slinky, black, depressed male.  His cage had "sold, sold, sold" stickers all over it for his siblings.  They were playing and he was asleep, overlooked and forlorn, in a little hammock.  I picked him up and tried to play with him but he just melted onto my chest and began to chew on my jacket zipper in a half-hearted attempt to be cute.  I put him back and left.

Half an hour later I was back, determined to give the sad, golden eyed spawn from hell a pine-scented home for Christmas.  He was stuffed into a garlic box and transported home.  (No plan for that really, just the box the pet store provided, but who knows?)  I dropped him off in the greenhouse while I unloaded groceries, then returned to wrap his pitifully yowling throat with a red Christmas choker.

And then the magic happened.  I pulled him out of the box and Dan laughed.  He dropped to the floor and immediately attacked our springer spaniel's furry toes, completely freaking her out.  She's used to cats, but I think she was still checking out the strange, stylish black rat.  Within minutes they were fast friends and Diablo discovered the joys of Christmas decorations, ribbons, warm fireplaces, and curmudgeonly older cats. 

Little D does not live up to his name.  He loves to be held and cuddled, and follows us around like a puppy.  Unfortunately he also has long claws and loves to climb up the pant legs of unsuspecting visitors.  (If our assistant Tyler is wearing a sweatshirt, Diablo can sometimes be found sleeping in the hood.)  Welcome, Diablo.