20. MISSING

I love these huge windows! Annabelle exclaimed. You must come and see them, Thatch.

When? he asked her.

Can we go now, Daddy?

I looked up from the work on my desk. Will you remember what floor we live on?

Of course, Annabelle replied. I’m not stupid.

Don’t go outside to the street and behave yourselves.

I opened the door, and they ran out into the hall.

Earlier, Annabelle and I had made our morning patrol to check the safety of the building and to pay calls. We didn’t see anyone, but she was entranced by the floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the building’s front door.

These are amazing! she exclaimed to me. Why can’t our apartment have windows like this? Our windows need washing, too. These are so clean!

You’ve passed these windows every day for the past six months, Missy.

I was preoccupied with building safety and visiting neighbors-

Like Val? I asked.

Well, yes. How can you look at windows when you can look at Val?

And love blinds us, I stated.

Well, yes. But today, I finally looked out these huge windows, and it’s amazing! Look out there! Pigeons strutting on the sidewalk and people walking by. Oh, look at that one: that’s a real fashion don’t.

Be nice, I warned. Someday, when you’re a star, you will have to be nice to your public.

Yes, Daddy.

When we returned to the apartment, she told Thatch over and over how much more wonderful the door windows were to our second-rate ones that he wanted to see them. They left the apartment and I went back to my work. At 4:00 it was time for their dinner and I realized they had never come back from the lobby. Don’t panic, I thought; you’ll find them playing in the halls.

I walked down to the lobby. They weren’t on three, as I hoped. I had expected to find them waiting outside the door since neither one can reach the doorbell. They weren’t on two, waiting in front of Pixie’s door, and they were not on one. Oh, God, I thought as I rode the elevator to five, let them be lost on four or five. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. They weren’t on four or five, and when I reached the third floor, they weren’t there, either. They were nowhere in the building, and I panicked.

I rang Val’s door and no one answered. I forgot: he’s painting an empty apartment down the street. I called him on my cell phone.

Val? Are the kitties with you?

No. I saw them earlier in the lobby.

I can’t find them! I’m starting to worry.

They’re around. I’d come help you look, but I’m-

I know. You’ve got an apartment to finish. I’ll let you know when I find them.

I walked out to the sidewalk and looked toward Broadway. I hoped I’d see them playing on the sidewalk. Nothing.

Annabelle! Thatch! I called. Annabelle! Kitty kitty!

I looked toward Amsterdam and called them. Nothing.

I was afraid to look at the street. What if they’d been hit by a car?

I braced myself and looked. Nothing. The doors to Holy Trinity were open. Could they be inside?

I crossed the street and walked into Holy Trinity. There were a couple of people inside praying, but there no sign of them. I walked to shrine to St. Francis and lit a candle. Please, I prayed, find them for me.

I walked out of the church and looked over the block. Each building had steps leading to a basement, and there seemed to be so many, more than I’d ever imagined. One building on the corner had a doorman. I’ll walk down and ask if he’s seen them. He’s always out on the street.

A little gray cat and a little orange and white one? They’re yours? Sure I saw them. I was getting a tenant a taxi and they ran past me toward Broadway.

Are you sure?

Yeah. I had just come on my afternoon shift, I was standing outside the front door, and Mrs. Mandelbaum – she’s in 12A – needed a taxi. I had just opened the door for her. That’s when they ran past me.

I started to cry. Broadway? Oh, God, I moaned, who knows where they are now.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Moore. I hope you find them.

Thanks, I said, as I turned and stumbled down the block to Broadway. I got to the corner and looked north, then south. The doorman had seen them over an hour ago. How did they get out? Why did they go out? Where were they? I didn’t know what to do. I’ll go home, I thought, see if I can learn anything on the computer, and call 911. I stumbled back down the street to the apartment; I could hardly see, I was crying so hard. Oh, God, please, please, please bring them back to me.

You look bad. It was Val. He was carrying his ladder and brushes.

I don’t know where they are!

You didn’t find them?

No. The doorman on the corner saw them running toward Broadway. I’ll never find them now, and you know Annabelle. Her sense of direction is terrible. She can’t find her way back to the third floor. I was counting on Thatch . . . I sat on the steps to the lobby and sobbed. Where are they?

Let me clean up, and I’ll help you look.

Thanks. I’m going to call the police. Maybe they can give me some good advice.

We boarded the elevator. I rode to the basement with him, then up to three. The police weren’t much help, but they were very sympathetic. They advised me to make some flyers with their pictures and hang them around the neighborhood. Did their collars have their names and my phone number?

No, I told the officer. Their collars are sitting here by my computer.

That’s not good. Are they microchipped?

Yes! Yes! They are.

Well, then, that’s good. If they end up in one of the shelters, they’ll be checked for microchips and you’ll get a call.

Thank you, officer. I’ll print their photos and start making posters.

Good luck, sir.

Two hours later, Val, his wife Heidi, and I taped flyers offering a nice reward for their return on every post on Broadway and Amsterdam between 79th Street and 86th Street. I also posted their photos in the the NYC Pets site on Craig’s List.

All I can do now is wait.

And hope.

Nearly a week passed. I was so depressed I couldn’t work and I could barely get myself out of bed. When I did, I stared out the window or sat at the computer staring blankly at the screen, thinking, what’s happened to you, Annabelle? Where are you, Thatch? Their collars sitting on the table said to me, you ass, why weren’t they wearing us? While I hoped their microchips would locate them, I also feared that if they were killed on a street by a car or truck, no one would give a damn about checking for a microchip. Did someone pick them up and take them home? I just needed to know they were safe. Thatch wasn’t getting his daily heart medicine, and that really concerned me. I was tormented by nightmares in which unseen assailants pulled them from my arms or they dodged cars on a street. One night I dreamed I got off a bus and walked to the apartment to find the building was burning. Police cars, firetrucks and firemen were everywhere. I couldn’t get inside to rescue them.

Val stopped by daily to check on me and ask for news, Auntie Judy sent over soup and other food, and Pixie, the neighbor below me, brought me brownies. Each time the phone rang, I hoped it was good news. There were several calls that hung up when I answered, calls from worried family and friends, and too many unsolicited calls about credit cards I didn’t possess, offers to clean my floors or requests that I hand out money I didn’t have.

Annabelle, then Thatch, had filled such a void in my existence that I missed them dreadfully. I had been content for the most part being single. I was never good at love, as my string of failed romances proved, but I was blessed with friends. They, family, and work kept me occupied and content. When my health fell apart, much of my work did as well. With too much free time, Annabelle and Thatch became the center of my life. I wanted them back, dammit. I needed them.

On the fifth day, I answered the phone.

Could I please speak to Larry Moore?

This is he.

Mr. Moore, this is the Manhattan Animal Care Center. You are the owner of a young cat named Thatch?

Thatch! Really?

Are you his owner, sir?

I am! You have him? He’s okay?

Yes, sir. Would you like to pick him up?

Yes! Yes! I’ll come for him. When?

I burst into tears. The lady at the Care Center was very kind. She gave me their hours, the address, and instructions. For the first time in nearly a week, I bathed, shaved, and put on clean clothes. I could not stop crying. I grabbed a carrier and ran for the elevator. I passed Val as I burst out the front door onto 82nd Street.

They’ve found Thatch! I yelled at him as I ran to hail a taxi.

Excellent news! he called back. See you later!

As the taxi headed to the East Side, I kept wondering, Where’s Annabelle? She’s an explorer and smart. I thought I’d find her before Thatch ever turned up.

I had brought Annabelle’s carrier, as Thatch reminded me when he stepped into it. Still, he wasn’t complaining and we were both happy to be heading back to the West Side.

Thatch! You look terrible, I told him when we got home. Are those scratches? Who hurt you?

It’s no fun on the street or in a shelter. Annabelle was right about them.

Did the shelter put medicine on your scratches and that cut?

Yes. A little.

How long were you there?

Two days including today. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.

Never! I’ve missed you so much. I was so worried.

I was scared.

Me, too. I know you will hate it, but I’m giving you a bath and making an appointment for Dr. Romero to check you out.

I filled about half of the bathroom sink with warm water, and scrubbed Thatch down.

Be careful of that cut, he told me. This is my second bath.

You’re right. Do you remember the first?

Sorta. You wrapped me in a fluffy towel.

I did . . . and I cuddled and sang to you. You were so tiny.

When he first arrived here last November, that poor little baby was so frightened of Annabelle and me that he crawled under bookshelves to hide. One day he ran under a bookshelf standing against an inside wall this apartment shared with the next door neighbor. The floor under the shelf was covered in roach poison and other pesticides from a horrible bedbug infestation in 2008. Luckily, the space between shelf and floor was so low that he was unable to clean himself. As soon as I lured him out from that mess I took him, his coat releasing puffs of dry poison into the air, to the bathroom and dropped him into a bathtub of warm water to rinse off the poison before he ingested any of it. I was terrified I’d find him dead the next day. That was when Carol suggested we try pitting him into a cage to let him adapt to us.

Is Annabelle here? he asked me.

No. No word. Nothing. I’m really afraid we’ll never see her again. I don’t want to think about it. Let’s talk about you instead.

She saved my life on Broadway. Some young man and his girl friend tried to steal me.

What happened?

We were hanging out in front of Cafe 82, just watching the crowd, and this man grabbed me up and said to his girlfriend, “This will make a nice meal for my python.” I was yelling for help, and he tried to put me in his bag. Annabelle jumped up on his shoulder and scratched his neck real hard. He screamed and dropped me, and she yelled “Run, Thatch!” and I ran up Broadway. I never saw her again.

He burst into tears. She saved me!

Oh, baby, I said. He wept as I bundled him into a fluffy towel. I dried him off. He’s lost some weight, I thought. You need some food, I said.

Val stopped by to see him. Thatch, he asked him, how did you get to the shelter?

Thatch looked up from his Meow Mix. I’m smart. I’m Ninja Cat!

Come on, Thatch, I said. Tell us.

When I stopped running, I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know what to do, but I was born in a tough neighborhood and my sister and I learned fast to avoid mean humans and how to find food. So I knew how to find a safe place to hide. I finally decided I had to find a way back home to you, so I approached a police car and cried until they noticed me.

Annabelle will love that! I told him. You’re turning into a good actor.

I don’t want to be an actor.

Well, Annabelle’s certainly developed your skills. So what happened next?

The police finally noticed me and picked me up. They took me to the shelter. There they found my microchip, and here I am.

After Val left, Thatch jumped into my lap, stretched up and put his front paws around my neck.

Daddy, we have to find Annabelle.

We will, baby.  I hope.

I really, really, really miss her.

Me, too, Thatch!

He jumped off my lap and began tossing a Ping-Pong ball around.

First of all, Thatch, I want to know how you and Annabelle got out of the building.

Oh . . . some man threw us out.

What?

You know there’s that small lobby between the inside and outside doors?

Yes, I said. The landlord did that in the 1980s to keep the homeless out of the lobby when Holy Trinity started its food program. On cold mornings, they came into the lobbies to stay warm. We’d go to work in the morning and have to walk over these poor unwashed people. The hall smelled terrible.

He let the ball roll under my bed before he turned back to me.

We were running about the lobby, and Maryanne came in the front door. Annabelle knows her. When she went out, we ran into that lobby space while the inside door was closing. Annabelle wanted to wait for Val and surprise him. We were playing at the windows, just watching the people and birds and dogs when this man came in. He opened the front door and gave us a dirty look. He called us rats. Rats! We had no place to run from him, and he kicked us out with his foot. It hurt.

Who was this?

Don’t know. Annabelle said you knew him.

He lives in this building?

Yes.

If I ever find out who it is, I’ll pay him back.

We don’t like him. He’s mean.

Why did you run over to Broadway?

Annabelle wanted to see it. She wants to be a Broadway star. Then we were going to come back and wait for Val to let us in. Annabelle loves Val.

She sure does, I said.  And he loves her, too.

It was such a relief to have Thatch safely returned, but I was really worried about his health. He was eating garbage on the streets. What if he picked up a parasite? What if he’d caught an upper respiratory infection at the Animal Care Center? They’d just as soon kill than cure an animal.  Too many cats get sick there, and I didn’t want anything to jeopardize his heart. It was another relief when Dr. Romero gave him a clean bill of health.

Still, Annabelle’s disappearance really traumatized me. After some serious contemplation, I figured there were three reasons I had heard nothing:
1. someone had decided to keep her.
2. she was sick or lost and hiding from strangers.
3. she was dead, my worst fear.

I could see someone adopting her. She’s beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and very affectionate. I would miss her greatly, but I wanted her to be safe. She clearly wasn’t held for a ransom; I would have heard by now. Those posters were still up and generating no response. If she were sick, I could only hope someone would find her and get her to a shelter or a vet; there she might be checked for a microchip. It worked for Thatch. I couldn’t imagine her hiding from strangers; she takes to everyone. As for the third option, I refused to even consider it. Even if I were absolutely certain she were no longer alive, I would never, ever give up the hope that she would strut through that door to catch up on all her issues of Backstage and boss Thatch and me around.

Thatch and I pretended things were normal. We played, watched the soaps and Judge Judy. I read The Incredible Journey to him at night or we watched DVDs. Neither of us mentioned Annabelle, and we each wept and mourned alone. Thatch also blamed himself for losing her after she saved him, and that made him anxious and antsy. He wouldn’t talk to me, but I overheard him talking to the pigeons on the fire escape when they asked about her. For all we knew, she ended up being some python’s meal for the week, and the thought was too cruel and gruesome to contemplate. We both had nightmares.

And so the days passed.

The next Wednesday afternoon, around 5:30, my friend Kevin Chamberlin called me out of the blue between matinee and evening performances of Wicked. I hadn’t seen him since we did The New Yorkers at Encores!

Do you own a gray cat named Annabelle? he asked me.

Yes! I do! Why did you ask? Have you seen her?

She’s been hanging out in the drive-through of the Gershwin Theatre. She’s always trying to get backstage through the stage door.

Are you serious? I asked. How the hell did she get there? I wondered.

Very serious. She’s been here about a week.

Oh, my God! This is such good news.

The doorman and the cast and crew have been feeding her. When she gets past them, she runs onstage and lounges in the middle of it. They’ve chased her out several times. She’s even back there during performances. One night she was in the orchestra pit.

I laughed. That has to be Annabelle! Is she okay?

Well, she’s sick. It’s been awfully rainy, you know . . .

Oh, no, I said. She has allergies and breathing issues. Is it bad?   Please don’t tell me she’s dead.

No, she’s alive. I took her to a vet after the matinee today, and they checked for a microchip. They gave me your name and number and I said, wait a minute, I know him! They also gave me a prescription for her.

Kevin, thank you. Thank you. What do I owe you for that?

You owe me $125.00.

I’ll pay you when I pick her up. Can I come down now?

Sure. Ask the doorman to page me. She’s in my dressing room. Do you know where the stage door is?

Sure do. Thanks again!

As soon as I hung up the phone, I turned to Thatch, who was dancing with excitement.

Come on, Thatcher, I said. We’re bringing Missy home!

Annabelle’s safe! he shouted in delight.

I gathered up my keys, cell phone, and wallet, and then I dragged her carrier from the closet.

Are you ready, Thatch? I asked.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Let’s bring our little girl home!

I put on my cap, grabbed my cane,  Thatch jumped onto my shoulder, and we ran for a taxi. We stopped at the corner deli, for some cash from the ATM, and bought her some roses. Thatch was so excited I was afraid he would wet himself and the back seat of the taxi.

Don’t get too excited, I warned him. You know what happens.

Annabelle! Annabelle’s coming home! he shouted. Annabelle! Annabelle!

I thanked Kevin for taking care of her and paid him for her vet visit. She did not look well. The spark in her eyes was dim, but it wasn’t extinguished, thank God. She was overjoyed to see us.

Hello, boys, she said in her best Mae West.

We brought flowers for our star, Thatch said.

Roses! Oh, thank you. Are you stage door johnnies seeing me home?

I laughed. Our diva was in her element. She’ll be impossible from now on, I thought.

We missed you, Annabelle, Thatch said.

Thatch! She dropped her diva act completely. Oh, Thatch, are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you.

You saved me!

Nobody’s hurting you. Not on my watch!

Missy, I held her tightly, I have missed you so much!

Me, too, Daddy. Can we go home?

That’s our next stop, I answered her. I put her in the carrier, and Thatch perched on my shoulder. We headed to Eighth Avenue and a taxi.

The people at Wicked were really nice to me, she told us, even if they did try to keep me off the stage.

Annabelle, where did you sleep out here? Thatch asked her.

Under a newspaper thingie. It was fine and warm till the rain came.

Hold on, I said. Here’s a taxi. Let’s get you and Thatch home. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.

I gave the driver the address and he headed uptown. Annabelle’s carrier sat beside me on the seat, and Thatch sat in my lap. He stroked the side of the carrier.

I waited for you to come and get me, she said. What took you so long?

I didn’t know where you’d got to. How did you end up at the Gershwin Theatre of all places?

Sheer luck. After I scratched that man who wanted to murder Thatch, I ran like crazy. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me.

So, what happened?

I was on Broadway, so I kept going. I walked a long time. When I saw the signs for Wicked, I stopped. I’m going to play Elphaba some day, and I thought, this is a sign. I’m getting on that stage if it kills me.

Kevin tells me you did get on the stage.

I did! Isn’t Kevin good? He’s the Wizard, you know. He watched out for me. I sat right in the middle of the stage. That’s where I will stand when I take my bows. I also got to see bits of the show when I could sneak backstage. Everyone was so nice to me. Did I tell you that?

I’m happy about that.

Val came by every day to ask if we found you, Thatch told her.

I love Val!

And here we are home. Let me pay the driver. Thatch, get on my shoulder

When we walked into the apartment, I released her from her carrier.   As soon as she was released, she and Thatch embraced. She nuzzled him, and he squirmed and said, You saved me. I love you, Annabelle.

I love you, Thatch. I’m so happy you’re safe.

I watched their touching reunion and prayed to God there would be no serious scars from these two weeks of hell. It seemed like two years. I called Val and told him and Heidi that Our Diva was home. Annabelle and Thatch settled on my bed. She groomed him, then he groomed her. They cuddled and caught up on events. I put the carrier away and read the instructions on the medicine Kevin gave me.

No romping, you two, I told them. I think Annabelle needs to be quiet for a couple of days until her cold clears up. I’ll call Dr. Mohr and she’ll have a look at you.

Since it was nearly eight o’clock, I gave them a treat.

It’s so nice to be home, she sighed.

Annabelle, I said, Thatch told me about the man kicking you out of the building.

Oh, yes. Yes, he did. I had forgotten about him.

Who was it?

The man with the bicycle.

Really? I said. Thanks for telling me. Okay, I thought, I’ll pay him back one of these days.

Now let’s get back to me. Where are my issues of Backstage? There should be two, I think.

I’ve held them for you. Let me get them.

While you’re up, would you get me the CD of Wicked as well? We can listen to it. Thatch, you will love this show! I’ll be an excellent Elphaba but that green makeup worries me. And can you bring me the DVD of The Wizard of Oz as well?  We’ll start with that!

It’s showtime! Thatch shouted, and they both laughed.

She’s baaaaack!

 

©2018, Larry Moore