I am Diablo
By: Nasar Karim
Tags: Fiction, Cats, Satire, Pets

Diary of an adopted cat

It’s cold outside, but that doesn’t matter to me right now. I’m inside. I’ve landed on four paws you see. I’ve found a nice warm home, with nice furniture, plenty of food, a big garden, and lots of entertainment. Don’t be so surprised though, I am Diablo, possibly the smartest cat you’ll read about all day.

Somehow, not so long ago, I found myself under a car on a freezing night. I was surrounded by bloodthirsty, heinous beasts with terrible teeth, bushy tails, and the most dreadful laughs. Top that off with beady, reflective eyes and awful culinary inclinations. Those stupid creatures will eat anything. Scraps of stinking rotten meat and cats included!

I wasn’t scared of them! I pined and yowled and cried and meowed, but that was just to make them feel good about themselves. Stupid foxes. All that vocalization serves another purpose as well, so listen up, you might learn something.

Now I’ve already told you that foxes are stupid, but did you know, humans aren’t much smarter? I’ve found myself a real bunch of suckers. They’re kind-hearted and fun too, just the sort of slaves I like. Actually, they’re the real reason I’ve mastered my cowardly cacophony, it’s all an act, I swear. Here’s how it works. Find a nice house, preferably semi-detached or better, with a good garden. The inhabitants should include some who are only slightly larger than cats. Children. They are very easy to manipulate. Old ladies, single ladies, guys with soft bellies and trendy beards, they’re all easy prey too. Those beards look so ridiculous! I can understand why they do it, I mean, I have whiskers, and they do look tremendous. Avail yourself of my magnificence in the above photograph.

The appearance of helplessness is very likely to melt the hearts of most humans. If that is not enough to put you in control of their measly minds, take advantage of those silly immobile ears they have stuck on the side of their block-like heads; meow and wail and cry with every ounce of your catness until you’ve convinced them that you’ll be utterly helpless, lost and alone without them. I’d give that strategy a couple of minutes. But there are some thicker-skinned humans too. They’re probably genetic mutations like my friend Thunder (he’s not that tough or that smart, but he’s huge and has so much white fur he looks like a cross between a rug, a yeti, and a giant cloud). These tougher humans aren’t much fun to be around, but they have their uses as well. If the noise and the pouting don’t work, get in their faces. Go right up to the front door and turn the volume up to the max. Hide under their car and make a racket. Sit on their windows and sing your blues with all your heart. The aim here is to get someone to open a door or window. A bit like a vampire, a smart cat has to be invited in.

Once I’d located a suitable house, it only took me three nights of raising the roof until one of the bigger humans, the woman, opened the door. It was late at night and frigid air was testing my fur. Still, I looked good. I always look good. As soon as that door was open I bolted inside and launched a charm offensive. Rub yourself up against them, purr like your nine lives depend on it, roll on your back and show them your jewels. If they are stupid enough try and touch your exposed stomach you must exercise restraint and not bite their hands off. Save that till later when you have them under control and it’s time to start laying down the rules. The first contact is all about casting a spell.

When the crazy cooing lady had finally gotten out of my way I proceeded deeper into the house to locate the little ones. 99 times out of 100, the little ones will be your ticket, so get in the house and find them! Finding them didn’t take long. They came shrieking with the usual levels of joy and excitement. Humans and other intelligent species are generally overwhelmed when in my presence. After enduring the ceaseless attention of my welcome party for far too long, I took command of a large, well-appointed sofa with plenty of cushions. My star struck hosts fussed annoyingly over me whilst I expertly continued my plan. They would have to be trained, but not until they’d provided me with food. I don't just impart knowledge and wisdom for free. I carried on with the mission. Loud purring, rubbing up and down, loud purring, exposing stomach, more loud purring. Repeat. Simple strategies control simple minds.

In most cases that would have sealed the deal, ascension to my new throne would have been complete, but not this time. No, this story has twists and turns. Cats and villains! Yes, lucky reader, this is no ordinary diary, for I am no ordinary cat.

Ensconced in a new seat of power, I was surveying my new lair when the front door opened and a human male walked in, clearly the patriarch. I licked my paws to demonstrate my relaxed and dominant state. Then I gracefully hopped onto the thick carpet and strutted adorably up to him. He did not stop, he did not melt, there was no hint of a smile on his face. He even glanced directly at my deep green eyes and at that moment I was sure he too would fall under my spell. But it didn’t work!

“How long has it been here?” he asked gruffly.

The pretty lady paused. (The pretty ones like me, if they have any taste). When she responded she was quiet and defensive. “Damn, that’s not a good sign,” I thought, keeping my eye on the intruder. “He’s very cute isn’t he?” I thought that was an understatement. I’m magnificent. Perfectly formed, with a coat resembling that of a tiger but in a more tasteful colour scheme, no garish orange and black here. Maybe I’ll have a mane when I’m fully grown as well, like the other so-called ‘King of the beasts.’ That would be a befitting title for Moi. My powerful paws are white, one set off with a little touch of black just between the toes which only draws attention to the claws, razor-sharp and hidden in the snowy splendour of my lower coat. Don't even get me started on my face. Words cannot do it justice.

Returning to the lady’s woefully inadequate adjective; the question solicited no response. He seemed to think it was rhetorical, didn't even glance in my direction. Maybe he was afraid, having already resisted my charms once, he might already be exhausted.

Most humans are remarkably thick-skulled, I think most of the space between their silly ears is taken up by cat litter, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I suspect he avoided looking at me deliberately, aware that if he did, he was bound to fall instantly and irrevocably in love. I hopped up onto the lady’s lap, to show the new guy who the boss was. Then I licked something off of my front paw. No idea what it was, but it was edible.

“Well he can’t go back outside, there are foxes everywhere. That idiot’s still throwing them food.”

“Excellent” I purred quietly, pleased that this inconvenient being had accepted that I would be staying, and secretly excited that somebody was throwing food around for animals. I’d sensed that this was a good neighbourhood when I arrived a few days ago. My instincts are very rarely fallible.

“But he’s not staying in the house, he must have somewhere to go. His owners will be worried, even if they can’t be bothered to look after him properly.” Alarm bells started ringing. Owners? I don't have owners! I have staff, who are privileged to work for me, some hangers-on (inconvenient trapping of my superior status), and enemies (woe to them). It was clear that the newcomer had plans bordering on treason. If he could not be mesmerized from a distance, I would just crawl onto his chest and block all else from his view whilst pummelling his eardrums with my purring.

“We need to name it.”

He was sliding into compliance, I remained aloof as I noted his progress.

“He’s a boy, he still has all his bits.” She stroked me whilst she corrected the oaf.

“Okay, we need to name him. I’m going to call it Diablo. Do you know what that means?”

“No, is it something lovely?”

“It’s something appropriate, it’s Italian for the Devil.”

I could feel her body stiffen as she defended me, clearly disgusted by his suggestion.

“No! You can’t call him that.”

“Yes. It’s Diablo.”

I didn’t particularly like the guy. But he was large and looked powerful, which meant he would be good at carrying my food and wares back and forth. A weak beast of burden is no good to anyone. I suspected he’d also make a capable foot soldier.

Whilst I found something delicious trapped between the toes of my hind paws, he spurted out some rubbish about “making the house stink" and disappeared into another room, the kitchen. From there he began repeating my ‘name.’ Staying in character, I leapt with remarkable grace from my chair lady, and landed with a soft thud, tuned for cuteness, before toddling expertly into the other room.

And can you guess what the big, tough, stupid, ogre was doing?

He was finally coming to his senses. He was, after much pointless delaying, pouring me a bowl of milk. Splendid! He might be stupid but he seemed to be aware that I only drink milk. Water is for peasants. Barely able to keep myself from rolling around in victorious jubilation, I buried my snout in the white elixir and lapped it up at great speed. My new butlers busied themselves with some inane chit chat as I powered through the beverage. There was far too little milk, but they would learn soon enough. I expect at least 5 pints a day, temperature fine-tuned according to ambience.

Almost as if I’d controlled his pathetic mind, the man came back into the kitchen, picked up my bowl, and refilled it. This was almost too easy. Rather than setting it back on the floor, he carried it to another part of the house. A room with a beautiful wooden floor, which I planned to sharpen my claws on, a luxurious white rug, and plenty of room to run around. Maybe it was my master bedroom.

To my slight surprise, he opened another door, this one heavier than the others, and placed my bowl onto a beautiful green carpet. What I thought was my master bedroom might merely be my chambermaids’ quarters. This room was enormous, far more befitting to my majesty. So large was the room, I couldn’t see the end of it. I jumped through the door and aimed my tongue at the fresh milk. Before my face was submerged I caught a fleeting glimpse of my surroundings. There appeared to be trees! My paws landed on the carpet, which was cold and damp! What was going on? An icy wind ruffled my fur, and the redolence of a wild night assaulted my nostrils!

As all this was happening, I heard the door close with a thud behind me. And then the unmistakable, heavy click of a lock being engaged. I couldn’t believe it. I was out in the cold again. Possibly, a mistake was being made. Maybe he’d gone to fetch me more milk. I turned my face to the door and meowed. But all I saw thought the cold glass was the lights being turned off.

It was mutiny! I returned to my bowl to see if more milk had magically appeared, but it was still empty.

As I faced the night and the freezing temperature danced around me, I became more resolute. Diablo the cat, I decided, would be back.