Diana Joya is a writer, children’s book author, speaker, and travel writer. She was born in Connecticut and began her career in the insurance industry, which enabled her to go to college part time, and received her bachelor’s degree in health administration. Diana’s desire to explore the world, educate others, and dream big, persevered. Her first trip abroad was when she was just 19, and opened up her curiosity for the world. As travel continued, so did Diana’s desire to share her love and experiences with others.
Diana resides in North Carolina with her husband, and personable cat, ‘Kitty’. In her leisure time she enjoys healthy living through fitness and healthy eating, traveling, writing about, and planning travel and spending time outdoors.
“Through Green Eyes”
Do you look at your pets and wonder what they are thinking about? Do you wonder what it must be like to live in their worlds? And what do they do all day, anyway?
Author Diana Joya’s Through Green Eyes takes you inside the lives of a neighborhood of pets. Kitty is full of personality. She and her friends go on adventures, including a treasure hunt with a real treasure map. Kitty also teaches the value of everlasting friendships.
Through Green Eyes encourages your imagination with a little help from magic and the power of love for others, self, animals, and nature. You’ll be entertained and might even learn something, too.
You can order the book through www.archwaypublishing.com
“This is a TRUE story by Diana Joya”
As I walked slowly to the end of the cul-de-sac, I could feel the weight of my steps. Ben was out mowing his lawn, and saw me approach. He shut off the mower and walked up to me quite quickly. I was hardly able to get the words out of my mouth, terrified of the answer I might get.
“I was just going to drop this note in your mailbox about Grayson. It’s not like him not to come over daily,” I said to Ben, as he approached.
“I’m sorry,” Ben replied, breathlessly. “I found him in the garage this morning. I don’t know how he died, but he was missing some hair. Possibly an animal got to him after it happened. When was the last time you saw him?”
I paused, choking back the tears. “We saw him Saturday morning,” I said to Ben. Today was Thursday. “What happened? Did he have any cuts . . . marks on him? Was he sick?”
Ben said he couldn’t tell. We talked about possibilities, as I continued to fight the tears. They flowed as soon as I turned to leave, and began to walk back home.
Grayson. This little gray cat, with the pitiful face peering through the front porch window. Thank you, and I’m sorry. Thank you for coming into my life, and for being such a bright light for me, although at the time, I did not realize it. I’m sorry for that.
I must admit, when you first showed up after your sister Snowball’s transition to heaven, I was upset that your dad got another cat so quickly. I always felt as though his frequent travels led to her coming around my door.
However, I quickly became your part-time caregiver as well, and was happy to do so. I thought I was doing you the greatest service by feeding you, learning your favorites and providing them, giving you love, attention, a blanket, a bed, and a place to go. Little did I realize, I was the lucky one.
In the beginning, our indoor cat, Miss Kitty, did not take kindly at all to you coming right up to our front-porch window, staring inside. She hissed, growled, and did whatever she could to scare you off, but you were not fazed. Over the course of the three years that you came around, her noises reduced. She was still was not about to let you cross that threshold to come inside though. Somehow, you understood this, and had an immense level of gratitude in you for everything received.
There were some days, I’d see your face in the window, go out with food or treats, and all you wanted was a pat on the head and acknowledgement that someone cared. You craved attention and some companionship more than food, so I was willing to oblige.
Over the last two years, while struggling with my depression, lack of identity, and emotional exhaustion, your visits became one of the few things that put a smile on my face some days. During this time, a greater than normal number of changes were going on in my life that caused me to fall into this state. It got so bad, that I felt I had forever lost the capacity for emotion. I was continuously numb, and I honestly thought I would never genuinely smile again.
I will always cherish that day in early autumn, when it took all of the mental and physical strength I could muster to go sit with you for a while on the front porch. Seeing you so elated that I spent some quality time with you was intoxicating. You were rubbing up against me over and over until you fell asleep peacefully behind me.
Your actions told me it was because you were exhausted from being on ‘guard’ all the time for your safety out in this world alone. But you trusted me enough to peacefully sleep and snore behind me as I read on the step. I even took a picture of you behind me that day, proud that you felt safe enough to fall into a slumber so sound. I now understand the value of that day, and can once again smile genuinely when I think of it.
As you figured out I was home much of the day, visits became longer and more often. On some days, you barely ever left, falling into a deep sleep on your bed outside. I found myself checking to see you there, smiling when I saw that sweet face. When you weren’t there, I would look out several times until you showed up for our twice or more daily interactions.
Your untimely death came far too sudden.
You were so young, and the world never will get any kind of explanation for what happened. The world also lost one of the sweetest souls even given. From the first morning you did not come by, I could feel something was wrong. Oh how I wished I went on my gut instinct and sought you out then. Perhaps it would have made a difference. At the very least, maybe you would not have died alone.
But I still have to thank you one last time. Even in your terrible departure from this world, you remind me of the gift of my returned emotions, locked up inside of me for all of those years. I thought I was numb forever, but you successfully showed me what true love is all about – the deep and unconditional kind of love that hurts all the more when it goes away suddenly, as you did. I am sorry I didn’t realize what I had in you, sooner.
What I do realize is that, over three years ago, God delivered me an angel. You came from heaven straight to my doorstep.
Miss Kitty paces the foyer now, looking out that window for you every morning and evening. She misses you too. I often catch myself peering out as well, hoping to see you walk up those steps.
Rest peacefully, my little angel. Until we meet again, you will be missed every day.