This morning I slept in, despite the efforts of Annabelle and Thatch to get me out of bed. I could blame the weather changes, but last night I made the mistake of telling them that I was feeling puny and that I might be getting sick. So, their initial attempts around 6:00 to rouse me – I know they wanted breakfast – were under the pretext of how’s Daddy feeling this morning? I got up at 6:30, fed them, and went back to bed.
Around 7:30, Annabelle, wearing her Red Cross nurse’s cap, brought me an orange juice and a cockroach.
How are we feeling? She asked me.
It’s all these weather changes, I told them. I’m sleeping poorly.
Thatch carried a thermometer.
Should we take your temperature? He asked.
I assured them I was fine and feeling much better than I did last night. I drank the orange juice and she ate the roach. I knew she really wanted it. We have fewer roaches these days. Ever since the Great Roach Hunt, the bugs are clearing out for their personal safety.
I thanked my babies for their kindness and told them I loved them; they are the prettiest and smartest kitties on the Upper West Side. Thatch blushed and Annabelle preened.
She followed me around all morning, asking if I were still feeling sick. I know she’s dying to put that nurse’s cap back on, lie beside me on the bed and watch soaps with me. So, to distract her, I flushed the toilet; it’s her new obsession. I can’t get a bit of peace in the bathroom because she wants to watch whatever is in that bowl swirl around and vanish. She now assumes that any time I go into the bathroom, I’m going to flush the toilet, and she wants to be there. So, even if I’m simply there to brush my teeth or wash my face, I flush the toilet to make her happy.
When I took the recyclables to the basement, she accompanied me. I know she hates it because there are unfriendly ghosts lurking there, and an ominous vibe neither she nor I can explain. We returned to the apartment, and I returned to my worktable. I was behind on an editing job, and I was feeling too lazy and warm to work. I needed a nap.
There was a terrible crash and I woke immediately. I stopped what I was doing to find the source. Annabelle had climbed onto the dresser, entangled herself in the cord of the lobby phone, and knocked all the framed art on top of the dresser into Thatch’s water dish. I released her, and then I checked the damage. I managed to retrieve two of them before the water got between the glass and the artwork; they were wet but undamaged. Fortunately, the original drawing by George Gershwin had fallen last and missed the dish. I ran for some paper towels.
Annabelle! I told you to stay off the dresser. I cannot believe you did that, I said to her as I wiped down two framed pictures with a paper towel.
What was that noise? Thatch asked me. He had abandoned his nap in front of the air conditioner to enter the fray.
Your sister’s been tossing things into your water dish again.
That’s not so, Annabelle said from under the table where she was hiding. It was an accident. That dresser is too cluttered. I got tangled in the phone cord.
Excuses, excuses, I muttered.
I’m sorry. I was caught in the phone cord!
You didn’t need to be on the dresser.
I was curious.
There’s nothing new here.
You know I’m curious.
I also know you like tossing things off shelves.
I don’t.
You do! Thatch told her.
I don’t! You’re just trying to get me in trouble.
No! I’m just telling the truth.
Oh, behave yourselves, I said. I have work to do.
You’re right, Thatch, she said to him. I do like to watch things fall.
I told you!
But I didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident. Honest.
Thatch, keep an eye on your sister, I said. Keep her out of trouble.
I do not need a baby sitter!
You need one twenty-four hours a day, Missy.
I went back to my editing. No more than thirty minutes later I heard Annabelle and Thatch yodeling, just before the computer, printer, floor lamp, and everything plugged into the power cable behind the filing cabinets shut down.
Now what? I yelled.
I don’t know, Annabelle said. What happened? We were mountain climbing and-
A sheepish Annabelle, wearing her lederhosen and Tyrolean cap, sat on top of the filing cabinets. She had climbed onto a precarious pile of books, and several had fallen behind one of the cabinets, pulling the power cable’s plug from the wall socket. Thatch, who was dressed exactly like her, jumped off the table and ran for the bathroom to hide.
I’m sorry –
Annabelle! Annabelle, what is going on with you?
I ran for the dresser and a flashlight. I would need one to help me find the plug and wall socket behind the filing cabinet.
It was an accident, she said. We were just climbing.
Just climbing? You are just interrupting my work. I do not need this nonsense today. I have a deadline.
I pulled the computer table away from the wall and got on my hands and knees to move the modem and a lot of cords plugged into the power cable to get to the filing cabinet. It took me some time to set the flashlight to aim its beam where I needed. I pulled out the fallen books, found the pulled plug and tried to fit it back into the socket. Thatch and Annabelle sat on the floor and watched me in silence. I was half-sitting and half-lying in an awkward position, so I was grateful for their silence.
I was so angry that it took me several tries before the plug went into the socket and everything whirred back to life. Thatch cheered, then he and Annabelle scattered as I pulled myself off the floor and began to put things in order. When I finished, I sat down and restarted the computer.
I’m really sorry, Annabelle said. It was an accident.
Missy, I am not in the mood for apologies at the moment. I am quite angry with you today. All you do is create messes.
It was an accident, she said. I said I was sorry.
I’m ready to take you back to the adoption agency today. There were so many other cats I could have chosen.
What? She looked shocked, maybe frightened.
I said, there were plenty of other cats I could have chosen. You heard me.
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I speak in haste too often, and I never learn. I could see she was crushed. Thatch ran to her side.
Annabelle, he said, you know Daddy didn’t mean it.
Oh, Annabelle, my little girl! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t.
Looking very unhappy, she sat before me, and I knew she was deeply hurt. I wanted to hold her and beg her to forgive the grumpy old man to whom she meant everything. I wanted to say, you are my heart, my soul, my spirit of adventure; I could never let you go. But I didn’t.
There was a long silence. Thatch stood beside her, giving me a defiant look as if to say, I dare you to touch her. I loved him all the more for that. Embarrassed, I turned back to the computer.
As soon as I had logged on and turned back to her, Annabelle drew herself up to her full height. She no longer looked frightened. She was ready for a fight.
What was that? She asked. You imply that you chose me? Oh, no, no, no! You did not choose me. No, sir, you did not.
I certainly did. You know I did, Missy.
Au contraire, Buster. I chose you.
He chose me, Thatch offered, at a Petco.
I’m surprised you remember that, Thatch, I said. You were so tiny.
He made a good choice, Thatch, Annabelle said. I told him, bring me home that baby brother you promised me!
She licked his face affectionately.
I was just a little baby. Now I’m big. I’m Ninja Cat.
But Daddy’s wrong about choosing me, Thatch, she said. I chose him. I did! Yes, I did!
I chose both of you, I insisted. I knew exactly what I wanted.
You did not! Thatch, he’s so wrong. When he walked into that trailer of cages, he didn’t know what he was looking for. There were a lot of us wanting a home. Some of them were so depressed –
Why? Thatch interrupted her.
Because they thought no one wanted them. Some had got out and been lost, some were abandoned by their owners or thrown out on the streets-
Why were you there? he asked her.
The people moved away and left me behind in an empty apartment. Some neighbors took me to a shelter and the adoption agency saved me. I am very grateful.
That’s so sad, Thatch said to her.
So many cats in that trailer were really, really sad. They were lost and felt unloved. It’s sad to be abandoned. I know, and shelters are not fun. They can be scary. I won’t tell you what happens if you’re injured or sick and no one rescues you-
I want to know! he said.
When you’re older I’ll tell you.
So what happened when Daddy walked in?
He was clueless.
I was not, I said.
She and Thatch laughed at my discomfort. I hate losing a fight.
Yes, you were! You were clueless! The agency had all of us up for adoption in cages in this long trailer, Thatch, wall-to-wall cages, and all of us wanting a home. I was casing out all of the potential parents, and he was the fourth or maybe fifth in the line passing through the trailer and deciding if any of us would be adopted.
I like a good story, Thatch said to me.
Those people in the line in front of him looked like no fun at all. Some just wanted a kitty for their kids. But him? I thought, you know, he might be a really good Daddy. So I chose him. When he got to my carrier, I flirted, I danced, I sang, I did cartwheels. I had to make him notice me. Some of those depressed cats weren’t up for a song and dance to save their skins, but I’m going to be a Broadway star.
I laughed.
She did, Thatch, I told him. She was so cute and so pretty! When I put my hand into the cage to pet her, she butted my hand with her head, talked my ear off, and wouldn’t let me go. I said to the Jo Ann – she was the lady in charge of the adoptions – “I’m choosing her,” and two hours later, after my references cleared and I wrote a check, I carted Missy home.
Aww, that’s nice, Thatch said.
And once, she settled in, Thatch, she never shut up. She talked my ear off.
All right, she said. I’ll let you think you chose me.
I’ll let you believe that, I said, but I definitely chose Thatch.
Yes, you did! He jumped into my lap.
And, I said, I made the right choices. Both times!
Well, I chose you, Annabelle said, but I did make one mistake, a big mistake, no, a huge mistake.
What? Thatch and I asked.
I didn’t ask to see your bank statement. I thought you were rich!
I laughed. Thatch jumped off my lap and ran to give her a kiss.
I love you, Annabelle! he told her.
Aw, Missy, you know I love you, I said. I’d never let you go away. Thatch and I need you.
We do! Thatch exclaimed.
Then Annabelle did her little polka step, and Thatch joined her. They danced around my feet.
Your choice? My choice? What the hell?
They’re mine.
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 