Daddy! Daddy! Come and see Annabelle!
Thatch grabbed my knee in an effort to drag me from my writing table. I put down my red pencil, put on my glasses, and gave him a serious look.
Is she okay?
Yes!
Then let me finish this page and I’ll come and see what’s going on.
No! No! Come now!
Thatch, I’m busy!
Now, come now!
His claws dug into my left knee. They really, really, really need trimming.
All right, I said. Where is she?
In the hall! Come on! Come on!
He is so cute when he’s excited and he dances around, but I always worry – always! – that he’ll pee on the floor. So, I rose from my work and followed this prancing baby triumphantly leading me across the apartment.
About an hour earlier, UPS had delivered a small Amazon carton containing some toiletries. I had signed for it, unpacked it, set the carton down, and returned to my editing.
Look! Look! Thatch yelled as he pranced around the carton.
There was Annabelle, comfortably seated inside the carton looking very proud of herself. Four months ago, she would have looked like five pounds of sausage in a one-pound bag. She never could have fit into that carton.
Well, Missy! I said. Look at you. You look very glamorous.
Now that R.U. Fémos is going to make me a star, I have to look really good.
She’s beautiful! Thatch raved.
Thank you, Thatch, Annabelle purred. It’s true.
Have you lost weight? I asked.
Don’t play coy with me, she said. You know I’ve been on The Catkins Diet.
And cattage cheese! Thatch added. He’s getting quite a sense of humor.
Dr. Mohr will be so proud of you, I said. How much weight have you lost, do you know?
Maybe a pound?
Well, you look quite svelte and sophisticated. Are you just lounging?
No. Thatch and I were going to look over the casting notices.
Where’s your Backstage? I asked.
I gave up in disgust. I wish Amazon would give their cartons a good strong ledge for me to rest my Backstage on.
Too small, huh?
Too frustrating! And the pages are too big. When I’m a star, I will never endorse an Amazon carton-
Never say never, Missy!
-but I will endorse The Catkins Diet. Is there any ice cream, Thatch?
That Backstage was quite important to Annabelle. On September 30, at a party celebrating Annabelle’s one-year anniversary on 82nd Street, Annabelle and Thatch got stoned out of their minds on catnip, and now they have decided they are hippies. The next day, we had to watch the DVD of Hair and listen to the movie soundtrack, the original Public Theatre cast recording and the Broadway cast recording. Since she’s only a teenager, I refused to tell her what some of the songs were about.
Thatch now wears beads, an old pair of sunglasses, and says “cool” a lot, and Annabelle insists I find her a wreath of flowers to wear. She prefers to say “groovy” and wants to audition for a revival of the show. She says the nudity is no problem, and she’s added “Frank Mills” to her audition songs. Every Backstage gets a thorough going-over for any signs of a possible Hair production.
When I told them I lived through this hippie madness in my 20s, they wanted to know if I lived on the streets, never washed, smoked hash, dropped acid, walked to San Francisco, or was at Woodstock. Since the answer to all these questions was no, they’ve written me off.
So, Annabelle, wasn’t that a wonderful anniversary celebration? I asked her.
It was! And full of surprises. Where did you find all those kittens to jump out of a cake?
Google, I said as I turned down the bed.
Bedtime? Thatch asked.
I think so, I said. Daddy’s tired. It’s exhausting trying to surprise Annabelle.
She looked up from her script. She has an audition for a cat food commercial coming up. Mr. R.U. Fémos is keeping her busy.
Am I too clever for you? she asked humbly.
I don’t know, Missy, but you sure keep me hopping to stay one step ahead of you.
Thatch laughed. And you can’t!
She and Thatch laughed. then she put down her script and they danced around my feet.
Thatch, you’re supposed to be on my side, I said as I undressed.
He is? Annabelle asked.
I am? Thatch asked. He climbed back onto my computer table.
I wish, I said. You two always gang up on me.
I climbed into bed and Annabelle jumped up next to me and settled in for the night. I reached for the light switch.
No, not yet! Thatch called.
What are you doing? I asked him.
I’m making my anniversary list.
Of?
Things to do for my one-year anniversary.
Are you going to show it to me?
When I finish. November’s not far away, you know.
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 