“Hola! Buenos dias! Y muchas gracias! And that, folks, despite my name, is all the Spanish I know. I speak a lot of Cat, as often as I can, and with a large vocabulary, too – Mrrp, Mow, Bllrp, Mrrmm. And I purr. I know some English. I can tell you that I’m black, and slightly fluffy. I’m maybe a year or two old, and I just love to be petted. I also love to eat. Brrrp! Bring me food, of course! Mrreww.”

“All right, my name. I like it. It’s mine. Pronounce it in California Spanish: vahl – ay – ho. Yes, some town in California has the same name, but the last I heard it was in big financial trouble. I am not. I manage my money very well, and I’ll manage yours if you let me. I borrowed my name from Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo, who was the Mexican colonel from whom the Bear Flaggers – um – stole California – after taking him hostage in his own house! Now, listen, I am a feisty black cat – and no Bear Flagging dudes are taking me hostage!”

“No, ma’am; No, sir. I am honorable and playful. I have aspirations to grow up to be a lap cat. I have aspirations to sail around this room and show off how cute I am. I’m told that somebody just left me here at Feline Rescue! And, no, not in a crate labeled ‘Fresh Peaches – Vallejo, California. Just walked off and left me to tell you about what a great cat I am. Vallejo – great cat!”

“For my final pitch as to why you should adopt me, I sit down, stretch my legs out in front of me, and give you my ‘I am so sweet…’ look. I slowly close my eyes, then open them, then lower them and blink to you. You will say, ‘Awww…!’ You will say, ‘I must adopt this fine feline fellow; where is my $120 so that I can?’ I am Vallejo. I am about to become your cat!”