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Soul Pet

Diesel’s Eulogy

By Jennifer Lancaster @jenergy17Published 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 11 min read
Diesel in his purple cast.

Miracles Do Happen

Diesel said, “You wanted a miracle."

I couldn’t believe I was reading these words in the painting.

It is impossible to pick one memory from a collection of memories with Diesel. He was larger than life. He was the epitome of companionship. When I remember him, I think of that iconic line from The Titanic, "I’m the King of The World!”

If the world was ending and I could only pick one being to spend it with, there would be no other obvious choice. I would choose Diesel. Every time. Over ANYONE. And EVERYONE. I’d pick him again and again and again. Do you get the picture?

A Love Like No Other

Companionship is about being in good company. It’s about unconditional love in many forms. And the form of love that Diesel taught me was unlike no other I’ve experienced. He taught me more about love than anyone. With Diesel, there was never a dull moment. You never knew what his next audacious move was going to be.

I believe that Diesel would’ve been a drag Queen if he were human. And the fact that I could sense this about him alone made him radically different from other pets in my life.

Diesel was my Soulmate or what I like to call my Soul Pet.

I remember the first time I met him. It was on a first date. I walked into my ex-boyfriend’s apartment and he mentioned he had three cats. Okay... As soon as I walked in, this fat gray and white puff of fur walked right up to me.

I kneeled down to pet him, and the connection was instantaneous.

“I like this one the best.” I declared.

“You won’t,” Al replied. "He’s a clown. He’s kind of a trouble maker always getting into mischief. “

“Oh, then I definitely like him the best," I responded. "What’s his name?" I asked.

Al responded, distracted, “Diesel”.



A Different Kinda Cat

Yes. Diesel was different.

He had a bent tail that was stubby and looked as if it had been broken and was forever left in a cock-eyed position. For this reason, one of my favorite nicknames for him was "Crooked Cat." You will come to understand that Diesel had many nicknames.

Al seemed to think he had been abused or perhaps got into a couple of scraps with animals before he found him. Diesel was already a full-grown cat when Al brought him home. He had been working on a movie set, and this cat kept lurking around. The actors were feeding him lobsters and prawns. From the get-go, he was a street cat that hustled his way into luxury.

Diesel wasn’t very cat-like at all. We liked to speculate that he ran with a pack of dogs because he was more canine than feline.

Al said that the moment he brought him home, he disrupted fucking everything. There were already two sister cats living in the house. And Diesel walked right in and immediately threw a wrench into the cogs.

Thanks for the Memories

There are so many memories. Some seem rote and mundane, while others were epic.

In the mornings, when we fed the kitties, Diesel would race to finish his food and then push the other cats out of the way like a linebacker sacking the quarterback and eat theirs too. This earned him another nickname: "Hungry-Hungry Hippo." It is also how he blossomed to 19 lbs. He was a 19-pound furball full of fun, love, and mischief. His personality was even heavier, bigger. If I had to guess his zodiac sign, I'd say Taurus, just like Al and me. We were all extra AF.

One night I grilled a giant ribeye steak for Al and me. We decided to make it a special night and set our low Japanese-style table. We lit candles, folded linen napkins, and poured the wine. The table was set and dinner looked and smelled delicious. We ran into the kitchen for not even 30 seconds to return to the table and a missing ribeye.

Puzzled Al asked me, "Where is the steak?"

"Um, what do you mean? What did you do with it?"

"I didn’t do anything!" he replied.

"Stop fucking around!" I said.

"I’m not kidding I didn’t touch it."

Simultaneously, we knew.


We looked over to see that fat cat trotting down the hallway, the rib-eye half hanging out of his mouth dragging along the floor. We chased after him in hot pursuit and grabbed his hind legs.

Al yelled, "Hey, We’re still eating that!"

This cat had the balls to snag that giant steak practically right under our noses and run for dear life. That made me love him even more.

Another time I was packing snacks to take to the beach. I made awesome sandwiches, put them in ziplock bags, and packed the cooler. But it didn’t quite zip completely.

I heard a rattling noise, and asked Al, "Did you hear that?"

We couldn’t figure it out.

All at once, I saw Diesel booking down the hall: the ziplock bag full of sandwiches in his mouth. He dashed under the bed, dragging the sandwiches. This guy. He just didn’t give up!

Diesel was big. Did I mention he weighed almost 20 pounds? This kitty was so big that he earned another nickname: "Underestimator." He was fat and clunky and attempt to jump up on Al’s DJ equipment and would miss. He would miss a by a lot. Like a mile.

I would say "Hey Underestimator. Did you underestimate again?"

He would give me this embarrassed look and slink off.

Discipline? As If.

He would repeatedly do stuff he was not allowed to do. And we always would say the same thing. It started out calm and would quickly escalate…

"Hey, Hey...We don’t do that."

"No, that’s not what we do."

"Diesel! Quit fucking around!"

And every time, he would give us this look. The cat eyeroll. The look of half shame and a half, "ugh, as if,"

He was mocking us, "Do you really think you have control here?"

Never a Dull Moment

One morning we were bolted awake by a startling sound of glass shattering.

Oh god.


Now what.

We ran into the family room to see our glass shelves that had hung over 6 feet off the ground, obliterated, shattered. Immediately we looked for the cats to ensure they were safe. We found both girl cats, completely unaffected. But, of course, we couldn’t find Diesel. We looked everywhere.

Finally, I ran back into the bedroom and looked under the bed. There he huddled, shivering, covered in blood. We rushed him to the vet and he had to stay overnight for tendon surgery. He came home donning a purple cast, looking both handsome and sad. After his cast was removed, he still had stitches for another two weeks. The appointment was scheduled for the following Saturday morning at 7am. Al had been at a DJ gig Friday night and didn't get home until around 4am. But after only about 2 hours of sleep, Al shuffled Diesel to have his stitches removed.

When he arrived back home, he was beyond livid. After running on fumes, he walked into the apartment and said, "This son of a bitch already took his fucking stitches out. I got no sleep and yet got up to take him in to have the damn stitches removed, and he already fucking did it! I’m so mad! And you know the kicker? The vet said he did a fabulous job. WTF." I remember laughing so hard. As I watched Al deal with his anger. I could not contain my amusement. Fucking Diesel. There was never a dull moment.

Mama Cat, Baby Cat

Diesel loved his Mommy.

Diesel and I shared a special bond.

Every night he slept on my right side, just under the covers, with his head on my pillow. He really sprawled out.

One night Al fell out of bed while he was in the middle of deep sleep.

He aroused, angry.

"WTF! I have no room!" he declared exasperated.

"I can’t help it. The boy is here." I responded, pointing to Diesel sleeping soundly.

Al was like, "Ugh, you can’t let him have so much space that I fall out of bed. He is a cat, I am a man!"

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, stroking Diesel as if Al had made a ridiculous request.

Are You There Mom? It's Me, Diesel.

Al and I broke up. It was bittersweet letting Diesel move with Al after our relationship ended. Al knew. He asked if I wanted to keep him. But I couldn’t take him away from the other cats. As deep as our bond was, I knew how much he loved his feline companions.

The cat and I would FaceTime over the months.

Suddenly Al had to take him to the vet because Diesel wasn’t feeling well.

We discovered he was in late-stage kidney failure. He had a month to live.


I scrambled to make arrangements to fly to Miami to be there for Christmas.

But suddenly Al called me two weeks later to tell me he thought Diesel only had days. I booked a flight to Miami that day. Al brought him to the airport to pick me up so that I wouldn’t miss one moment with him.

What a whirlwind of emotions! I was ecstatic to see the love of my life, but broken understanding that I probably had only hours to be with him.

My friends thought I was absolutely crazy to fly to Miami to be there for Diesel. I knew he was dying.

No one understood, this was my son. My soul unexplainable love. There was no other thought in my mind but to get on a plane and go down there.

We made arrangements to put him down two days later.

As we drove to the vet, I held him in the car and sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow, as I rocked him.

Take a Little Piece, Take a Little Piece of My Soul

A piece of me died that day in 2013.

We arrived at the vet.

Al said, "We should put him in the carrier."

I simply said, "No. I’m not putting him in a cage in his last minutes. They can fight me over it."

I sat in the car and my arms wrapped around him. Tears streamed down my face, as I continued to sing.

We walked in and I held him.

Already, ugly heartwrenching tears burst forth.

This animal…larger than life and such a part of our lives.

Send Me a Sign! Please?

Over the last nine years I’ve found grief from his passing can hit me out of nowhere.

On one particular day in 2019 (six years after his death) a wave of grief hit me late at night as I pulled into my driveway. I missed him so much that I sat in my car and broke into tears. It was kind of ironic that it happened to be day of the dead, a day typically about honoring those that have passed. I wept so deeply, it was as if the wound was fresh.

“I miss you so much, Diesel,” I said as I sobbed. “Send me a sign.”

I went to bed that night raw and hurting. The next day I went to my favorite coffee shop. As I sat and sipped my coffee, I noticed a piece of art hanging on the wall across the room. It was the beginning of a new month so a new artist's work, who I hadn’t seen, was featured.

Something about this particular piece was calling to me in a way I had never experienced. I walked over to it. It was hanging pretty high on the wall and I noticed under the different hues of red paint, it had pages from a book glued to it. Abstract, collage, mixed media. For some reason, I was being drawn to one of the excerpts but I couldn’t see what it said from where I was. I climbed onto a chair then stood on top of the table to read it. Art had never called me to it in this way, but there was something pulling me and I had to know what it said. All of a sudden I knew why.

The words read what Diesel had said,”You wanted a miracle.”

I froze. Just the night before I asked him for a sign and there it was. I took the painting off the wall, tears streaming down my face. I took it up to the counter. I don’t care how much this is, I have to buy it. Today it hangs next to the tribute piece of Diesel that I painted. . And on the ten-year anniversary of his death in 2023, I am getting a tattoo on my arm made from his ashes to remind me of the blessing of my greatest companion. It will say, “You wanted a miracle.”

I wanted a miracle and surely got one. Diesel, the legacy cat. When I tell stories of him, people always say, “Damn, wish my cat did that.”

Of course you do. You wanted a miracle. We all do.


About the Creator

Jennifer Lancaster @jenergy17

Multidimensional Creative-preneur

Life Coach, Personal Trainer, Artist, Writer. Formerly in restaurant business for 3 decades. Soul expression is my ❤️ language. Spirituality,music, art, food and creativity fuel my life. IG @jenergy17

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  • Liza Spiridon2 years ago


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