The photo above was just taken. It is a picture of the Suave family pet, Angela La Gata Diabolica. As I write these words, she is perched on the windowsill just to my left and above my head. She peers down at me as I craft this esoteric entry. We have obscured her eyes to help protect her anonimity. Once the picture is snapped, we take out the glowing red contacts, and leave Angela La Gata Diabolica in peace. We thank her for her help and patience in creating this post for our readership.
Angela la Gata Diabolica has been freeloading off the Familia Suave fortune since October. We welcomed her into our home upon Pepinita’s 8th going on 21st birthday in October. Pepinita loves Angela, and versa visa. Still, fate may never have tossed the feline into our otherwise petless lives. If it weren’t for the goodwill of Stosh the Pepinoville drunk, the Suave abode would be without a furry mooch. Yes, it was Stosh the Drunk who finally tired enough for me to pry the cat from his musty, street weary arms, and accept an economically-sized bottle of Pepperment libation in return. Although his weeping obscured his words, Stosh the Drunk seemed grateful. He raised a grimy eyebrow and said, and I paraphrase because his blubbering left him even more inarticulate than usual but with a queer old English accent, “My gratitude for tearing this burden from me, in exchange for this bottle of rotgut, you rogue….”, he rambled. Street people. Anyway, I got a cat for my kid, and forcibly relieved an indigent of some worry. All in a day.
So that is how I came to have a cat stare at me from above while I tap out this essay. When not freaking me out, Angela the Gata Diabolica entertains Pepinita by letting herself be prodded, carried, tossed, and pulled. In between these torture sessions she sleeps in the sun, eats expensive cat food, poops and pees in expensive cat litter, and sits on our heads if we so much as stop moving for a moment.
Thank you Stosh the Drunk for the cat. It only took me a few days to wash the stench of the street from Angelica and myself. I will always consider our frenzied wrestling match for the cat a struggle of love. I only wish the police felt the same.
La gata me mira como la bruja que es,
P. Suave el Distinguido