When I came in from the basement, Annabelle was on the computer. I looked around. Thatch was in the window. The fierce little hunter was stalking the pigeons.
Be careful, Thatch, I called. Don’t let them catch you stalking them!
I’m hiding, he whispered.
They can see that little orange tail sticking up in the air.
Really? Darn! Thatch jumped off the windowsill and strutted over to his treasure chest for some other diversion.
The last time the pigeons caught him playing the fearless pigeon stalker, they threw such a fit that he hid from them for days. Finally, he begged Annabelle to intercede and ask the birds to forgive him so he could join them again for tea. He really missed the Friday afternoon parties. Sometimes those pigeons have no sense of humor, and they stonewalled him. So, I pulled rank and warned them that if they didn’t forgive Thatch, I’d stop leaving them food. They forgave Thatch and welcomed him back.
So, Annabelle, I whispered, we need to make tomorrow a really special day.
I know. I’m really excited. I love parties!
Yesterday, I took care of the cakes and the refreshments. Val will be here at 4:00.
I love Val! she melodramatically swooned over the computer screen.
Then she did her little polka step around the top of the table. As soon as Thatch saw her dancing, he jumped up on the table and joined her. Please don’t yodel, I thought to myself.
Thatch? Thaaaatch? Annabelle asked, what do you want to do tomorrow? She danced up to him and licked his ear. Then she polkaed around the computer screen.
You’re silly, Annabelle.
Thaaaatch? She danced back up and stopped. Thatch, this is a serious inquiry. Stop playing with your tail and think about it.
Thatch stopped and thought about the question for a minute.
Play with my toys?
We always do that, she replied.
Tea party?
That’s on Friday. Tomorrow is Wednesday, Thaaaaaaatch!
He jumped off the table and brushed against my legs.
You want a treat? I asked. Already? You just had breakfast!
I’m hungry. Just a little bit?
You are always hungry, I told him, but I gave him some of my deli turkey.
So Thatch, Annabelle persisted, what do you want to do tomorrow?
I don’t know.
Now that it’s getting warm, maybe we could play outside?
Oh! Could we? Thatch reached up and grabbed my knee with his front paws. His claws need clipping.
Do you want to go to Central Park for a couple of hours? I asked him.
Yes! Yes! Thatch jumped up and down.
Okay, I said. We’ll go before noon, before it gets too warm, and come home around two.
This gives me less time to prepare the Big Surprise, I thought, but what could I do with two kitties while I set things up?
We’ll take our backpacks and I’ll pack sandwiches! Annabelle cried. We’ll have a picnic!
She was so excited about playing in the park that she jumped back up on the table and danced about.
My first picnic! Thatch was ecstatic. He jumped up and joined her dance.
I watched him and Annabelle dancing around the computer. Someday, Thatch, I hope you realize that every day I have with you and Annabelle is a picnic.
And sure enough, May 9 was a beautiful day to celebrate Thatch’s six months here. Annabelle and I were determined to keep the celebration a surprise, so we focused on Thatch’s first picnic in Central Park. He was so excited that he could hardly sleep. Around 2:00am, he crawled into my bed to ask me, will the grass tickle my feet?
I don’t know, Thatch, I yawned. I don’t think so. You need to get your sleep, baby . . .
It’s my first picnic, he whispered as he went back to his current bed, the latest Amazon carton. Around 3:00, he crawled back into bed to ask me, Are you awake
What?
Daddy, are you awake?
I am now. Can’t you sleep, Thatch?
Do you think we’ll see any big rats or coyotes?
Coyotes? No, I hope we don’t see any. They might eat you and Annabelle. I don’t want to see any big rats either. I see enough in the White House press conferences.
Annabelle says there’s a zoo! Can we go there?
Let’s see how crowded the Park is, but Daddy needs some sleep. You need yours, too. Sleep tight . . .
I’m so excited, he said as he went back to his Amazon carton.
Around 5:30 he was back. Do you think we can ride on the cara-, uh, the cara-
Uh . . . carousel?
Yes! he yelled.
Hey! I’m trying to sleep!
I’m sorry, Annabelle. It’s my first picnic. Can we ride the car- uh – you know.
Maybe. Let’s see how crowded the Park gets.
And he curled up next to me and slept. I zoned out.
When I woke, it was 6:30, and he was in the window talking to the pigeons about the picnic. Annabelle jumped on me.
The sooner you feed us, she whispered, the sooner we can prepare for the party!
Shh! I said. We don’t want you know who to know about that.
He’s clueless. All he can think of is the picnic.
So, I fed the kitties, tidied up the apartment, and took care of the litter while Annabelle prepared snacks for their picnic: a little duck paté, a cup of cockroaches, and some Purina Party Mix. While they packed their backpacks, I prepared a ham sandwich and grabbed a bottle of water. Everyone we passed on our walk to the Park stopped to mention my cute children. Annabelle preened and posed, since she expects nothing less from her public, while Thatch hid behind my legs, giggled, and blushed.
I gave them both a lecture about crossing with the light at the Central Park West crosswalk, since they were having too much fun. I was afraid Thatch was so excited that he would hyperventilate and wet himself. Annabelle strutted; Thatch danced.
When we passed the Museum of Natural History, Annabelle began to sing “Meet me underneath our little tree in the park,” and she and Thatch ran happily into the Park singing at the top of their lungs.
Since it was a beautiful day, the Park was crowded, but we stayed on the walk that begins at 81st Street. The cats said the grass was cooler for walking than the concrete.
The grass tickles, Thatch said, as he leaped through the lawn.
Those bikers sure don’t look where they’re going, do they? Annabelle griped after she dodged her second one. I like the roller skaters better.
We walked by the Delacorte Theatre, and I told Annabelle about the summer plays.
Are there any roles for me? Would they produce my musical?
Well, I think you need to finish it first.
Thatch and I are working on it.
It’s really, really, really, really, really good! Thatch said, running up to join the conversation.
So they played on the lawn around the Delacorte. I watched them, and then we had our picnic before heading back to 82nd Street.
We have to get back in a hurry, I told them. I have a busy afternoon.
Did you have a good time, Thatch? Annabelle asked him.
I loved it! I did want to see the zoo or ride the whatchacallit.
We can do that when there’s no surprise cutting into our day, I said.
What’s a surprise?
You’ll see, Thaaaaatch! Annabelle gave him a shove and ran.
He chased her to Central Park West while I called for them to be careful. We got to the corner of Amsterdam and 82nd Street. Val was washing down the sidewalk in front of our building. As soon as Annabelle and Thatch saw him, they left me at the corner and ran to tell him about the picnic in the Park.
As I passed him to unlock the front door, I murmured, see you around 4:00?
He nodded, and Annabelle, Thatch, and I headed for the elevator. We were home, and we had a party to prepare.
The guests began arriving around 4:00. Our neighbor, their Auntie Judy, was the first with her three cats. Annabelle’s tea circle of pigeons showed up on the fire escape, and Val arrived with a lovely anniversary cake and six candles, and a little cake made from chicken paté with a plastic 6 on it for the cats.
Happy anniversary, Thatch! I said. Six months ago today, November 9, you came to live with us. Annabelle wanted a little brother and we chose you.
Everyone applauded and toasted Thatch, who seemed overwhelmed. Annabelle hugged Thatch and kissed him. He cried a bit and squirmed. I thought, don’t wet yourself now.
A picnic and a party! He cried.
So, jump up on the table and blow out your candles, Thatch.
Will you help me? He asked.
I will, I said.
So the pigeons and the adults had a slice of the wonderful cake, and the cats all had some paté. Then everyone had a little vanilla ice cream, and Thatch opened his gifts. Auntie Judy brought me a gift: a scented pet odor candle since Annabelle’s litter box activity, to my dismay and Thatch’s, has resulted in several complaints about air pollution. I can’t keep enough candles.
I don’t know if Thatch was happier than I with his gifts. He got a lot of toys, and Val gave him a pretty collar with a plaid bow tie. Annabelle told him she was giving him co-author credit on her musical and he burst into tears. Again.
Then she started to polka. He laughed and joined her. Then I had to drag out the Christmas CD with “The Chipmunk Song,” so he and Annabelle could sing and I could yell ALVIN! Since most of the guests had seen this more than once, they began their goodbyes.
It was nearly 5:30 when the last of the guests left. I picked up the plates, dishes, and wrapping paper and tossed them into the trash. While Annabelle and Thatch checked out his new toys, I finished tidying up. When everything was cleaned up, I sat down at the table with a big sigh. It had been a long day and I was very tired.
So, Thatch, I said, I didn’t know what to give you, so I decided to make a gesture instead.
A jester?
Yes. When I knew you were coming here, but before you moved in, I closed the door to the linen closet so a tiny kitten couldn’t get lost in there. I was afraid you’d hide from me and get stuck in there where I couldn’t find you ever again. Now that you’re a big boy, I’m going to leave the door open all the time so that you and Annabelle can play in it and explore. When Annabelle first came here, she used to disappear for hours, and I’d look for her all day. I would find her asleep on the sheets and towels.
It was warm in there. I liked it. Come on, Thatch, I’ll give you a tour. It’s huge.
And the two of them vanished into the linen closet. I sat at the table and thought about what a wonderful day it had turned out to be and how fortunate I was. Later, from somewhere around the ceiling far, far away, I could hear two kitties singing, “ . . . And if there’s a moon above you, I’ll carve ‘I love you’ upon the bark Underneath our little tree inside the . . .”
Happy Anniversary, Thatch!
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 