It was a very hot morning, just above 90 degrees F, and Thatch lay on the windowsill, wearing an old pair of my sunglasses, soaking up some sun. The glare from the gold facade of Holy Trinity Church was dazzling. I had gotten up from my worktable for a stretch and passed him as I headed for the kitchen.
I like your shades, I told him, very stylish.
I’m a cool cat.
Do you see anything interesting? I asked him.
People, umbrellas, and an occasional dog. I never see any cats.
I doubt you will. What’s your sister up to?
She’s found a new place to sleep. She says the summer heat wears her out.
Let’s check it out, I said.
You go, he said. This summer heat wears me out, too. He stretched out on the kitty blanket in the windowsill.
Wouldn’t you rather nap closer to the air conditioner than a warm window?
No. I like to watch the traffic and nap.
All right. I just want you to be happy. I want to see your sister’s new sleeping place.
It’s near the door.
He turned his back to me, and I wandered off to find Annabelle. Sure enough, she was lying on top of the music books sitting on top of the filing cabinets near my computer table.
What are you doing up there, Missy? I asked her. You must be seven feet off the ground.
Deciding if this will be my new bed.
What about the linen closet?
It’s now the office of Annabelle and Thatch Enterprises.
Really? When did this happen?
Several weeks ago. We don’t have to tell you everything, you know.
I know that too well. So, you like sleeping on top of books? It looks uncomfortable.
I’m trying this out.
I thought you liked sleeping at the foot of my bed.
You’re a restless sleeper. Your tossing and turning works my last nerve. And Thatch has the best spot.
Well, she had me there. Thatch sleeps next to me on the pillow. I was happy when he chose the spot, but every night, with these two, bedtime becomes a major event that never changes. After we finish a movie or a story, I do my eye drops, Annabelle grooms herself, and Thatch wanders off to play with his toys. As soon as I turn off the lights, Thatch jumps onto the bed and wrestles with Annabelle. When she’s had enough, she jumps off the bed and runs with Thatch in hot pursuit. Then I have to listen to around thirty minutes of two manic cats playing tag. Without fail, their roughhousing overturns their water dish in the bathroom, soaking the bathroom rug.
The pandemonium stops when Annabelle retreats to the cat tree, and Thatch decides to jump into bed with me. He lies down for a bit, then leaves. As soon as I’m finally drifting off to sleep, around eleven o’clock, Thatch jumps onto the bed, wanders around it a bit, then settles down.
Daddy? Are you asleep?
No, Thatch. What have you been doing?
Playing with my toys.
I thought so. I heard a spinning ball. I knew it was you.
Hey! I’m trying to sleep!
Sorry, Annabelle, we both yell, then we laugh.
You’re both babies!
All right, let’s all go to sleep, I command, and we drift off to sleep.
About three hours later, I have to slide past a sleeping Thatch to use the bathroom. When I get there, I have to straighten the wet bathroom rug, hang it to dry, and upright and refill the now-empty water bowl before I can tend to myself. About then Thatch shows up for some water, and he trots ahead of me, leading the way back to bed in case I get lost passing the kitchen.
He jumps onto the bed, then rolls over onto his back so I can rub his tummy while he stretches. When he’s content, he whispers good night, climbs back onto his pillow, and his happy purring sends me back to sleep.
Too soon 5:30 arrives, and Annabelle jumps onto my bed from the cat tree and snuggles into the crook of my knee. She stays there until 6:15. Then she walks up my body, climbs onto my chest and starts kneading me. When she tires of that, she sticks her face into mine. Once she’s certain I’m not dead, she begins a number of attempts to get me out of bed. Thatch meanwhile has run to the window to check on the pigeons, so I have Annabelle climbing over me and Thatch chattering to the birds.
I have no choice but to wander into the kitchen and decide what Fancy Feast choices I have to offer them for breakfast. And they wonder why I need a nap around noon.
Today, when I lay down for a nap, Thatch joined me, and we were nicely dozing when Annabelle jumped onto my bed.
Why are you two lying down? We have the soaps in thirty minutes.
I don’t get enough sleep with you jumping onto me at 5:30, I said. I tell her this every day and she never listens.
It’s because I want to be near you and Thatch. I love you.
Liar, I told her. I know full well you are going to pester me for a treat.
Me? You know I love you and Thatch.
I know. So, lie down with me for a short nap, and we’ll watch the soaps.
Well, just a short nap. Then, maybe a treat?
Hey! I’m trying to sleep, Thatch yelled in his best Annabelle impersonation. It’s as bad as my Bette Davis. Then he jumped off the bed and wandered toward the kitchen.
So, have you decided how you like sleeping on top of the filing cabinets?
It has its moments. The cat tree is more comfortable. I’m moving back to it.
There was a crash in the kitchen, so we both had to get up and check it out. Thatch sheepishly jumped off the sink and ran into the linen closet.
Thatch! I called. Come back. Did you really jump up there?
He came back to us.
I did, he said. Are you angry?
Not at all, just surprised.
Annabelle licked his face. Thatch, you’re growing up!
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 