Hippity hop hop, hippity hop hop
Look at Frosty go!
I was awakened by Thatch’s loud singing. Before I could look up from under the blankets, someone stepped on my face as they passed by. Thatch continued his song while Annabelle, wearing an old top hat, cakewalked across my bed, leaped to the computer table, leaped to the dresser, and danced along its edge.
Frosty? I asked.
We’re rehearsing to go caroling! Thatch announced.
Ooooh, it’s too early, babies, I crawled back under the blankets.
No, no! Feed us, Seymour! Annabelle leaped back to the computer table.
I peered out from the bedding. Is it really 6:30? I asked.
Feed us, Seymour! they both yelled.
So I got out of bed, dressed, and fed them. By the time I had made the bed and settled down with my first cup of coffee, they were back to rehearsing “Frosty the Snowman.”
Why isn’t Thatch Frosty? I asked. He’s got a lot of white in his coat.
Well, he can’t leap as well as I do, Annabelle said.
I bet he could, I observed.
No. He can’t. And I’m the star.
And there you have it, I thought. Still, I loved these cats, and I thought a caroling event would be something we could all enjoy. I’d stand back and act as their bodyguard, and get a kick out of how much the audience enjoyed two show-off cats cavorting. I hadn’t counted on anything possibly getting in the way.
Sick? You’re sick? You can’t be. I will not allow that!
Annabelle threw Frosty’s top hat across the room. I could see she was not happy, but this cold came on me quite suddenly. I had spent Thursday feeling extremely tired and thinking it was Friday. By late afternoon, my sinuses were beginning to throb, and by bedtime I was feverish. I knew I was coming down with something. It didn’t help that I spent yesterday running errands in the rain. I walked around the apartment holding a handkerchief to my right nostril while my head, eyeballs, teeth, and joints ached.
I can’t help it, Annabelle, I told her. I feel like garbage.
Are you telling me we can’t go caroling tomorrow night?
Yes. I am. I’m sorry. After losing you three months ago, I will not let you out of the building without me. I’m not going through all of that hell again.
I crawled back into bed. Thatch, who’s been my guardian angel for the past two days, rose from his sleeping position next to me.
Annabelle, we can go caroling later, he said.
We can? What about Typhoid Mary here?
You’re being mean, Annabelle, I moaned. When this cold runs its course, we’ll go caroling. I promise.
Really?
Yes. It can’t last more than a few days.
Are you sure?
As much as I can be. Now let me go back to sleep, please?
Thatch curled up beside me.
Oh, no, you don’t, Mister! Annabelle jumped onto my bed and faced Thatch. This gives us more time to rehearse. We can even learn one more song. March!
The next days passed in a haze of kitties caroling and squabbling, bowls of chicken soup and fresh garlic, doses of vitamin C, Dayquil and Nyquil, and aching joints, teeth, eyeballs, and sinuses. My only trips out of bed were to clean the litter and feed the babies. Annabelle wore her nurse’s cap and spent part of the day bringing me orange juice and roaches I sneaked to Thatch. He was happy to lie beside me and nap with me. All three of us laughed through the preposterous soap operas and the court shows, but we took Judge Judy seriously. She terrifies us.
I was awakened on Christmas day with a clamorous demand to open presents.
Why? I asked.
It’s Christmas, Thatch said.
We get presents, Annabelle said.
Oh, it’s not Christmas. It can’t be, I told them. Christmas is, I yawned, uh, next week. I rolled over in bed. I think it happens after the next full moon, I said as I pulled the blankets up around my shoulders, or is it the next solstice?
It’s today, Annabelle said. I checked the computer, the calendar, and the CBS News.
Why should I trust a kitty who doesn’t even know which floor in this building is the third floor?
I could hear her bristle at that remark, but it’s true. She’s always getting lost and ending up at 2C, 4C, or 5C. She’s tired of my teasing her about this failing.
I’ve confirmed it, she was using her officious password sentry voice. Today is December 25. Isn’t it, Thatch?
Thatch had been playing among the folds of the blankets and trying to catch Annabelle’s tail. Uh, he said after a pause, I think so.
You two are too smart for me! You’re sure it’s Christmas?
We want our presents! I knew that voice. Our little girl was close to throwing a full-blown tantrum.
Santa was here! Thatch added.
Did you see him again, Thatch? I asked.
I did. He asked if I was being good. I said I tried.
Enough of Santa Claus, Annabelle erupted. Let’s get back to me.
Now wait! Just wait one minute. This old man’s been sick, and you are moving too fast. Maybe we should have breakfast first.
No, Annabelle explained. We open our presents and then we play with them while you cook us breakfast.
Cook? I’m opening a can of Fancy Feast!
Oh, just get up! Annabelle demanded. Feed us, Seymour!
Feed you? I asked innocently. I thought you wanted presents first.
I want you yo get out of that bed!
I don’t even get a Merry Christmas?
Touchy, touchy, Annabelle muttered. All right, Merry Christmas. Now will you get up?
Thatch had been on the windowsill waiting for the sunrise. He jumped onto my bed, walked up the bedspread, and plopped down beside me. He looked me in the eye and I whispered, Annabelle’s getting ma-a-a-a-a-ad. We both giggled.
Stop that, you two! Annabelle said sternly. I want to open my presents.
Ooh, Annabelle, I said a stage whisper, touchy, touchy!
Merry Christmas, Annabelle! Thatch yelled as her jumped up and ran to her. He kissed her, and I could see her relax. Merry Christmas, Daddy! he yelled.
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Annabelle ran and jumped onto my lap. I picked her up and kissed her.
Merry Christmas, babies! I said as I jumped out of bed.
We opened our few gifts and the Christmas cards I hold until the 25th. Then I returned to bed to the sound of two noisy cats playing with their presents. Later in the afternoon, I had get out of bed to feed them their dinner and prepare some soup. Thatch was crying in the bathroom, and a muttering Annabelle paced around the computer table. My right sinus was closed shut, the pain in my teeth and eyeballs was intense, and I wished I were dead.
Well, aren’t you going to comfort him? Annabelle sat at my feet.
Are you working him too hard, Annabelle? He’s not Eliza Doolittle. He’s a baby.
Oh, he’s more than that, Annabelle shrugged off my comment. You’ll find out some day.
What does that mean, Missy? My curiosity was aroused.
I can’t tell you, so I won’t. She crossed the floor and picked up Frosty’s top hat.
What does that mean? What do you know?
I know things, and we cats see things. I cannot tell you any more.
Things like Death? I asked.
Well, that’s one example.
Okay. So what did you do to set him off? I asked.
She put the top hat on her head and cakewalked back to me. He’s got three songs down really well, but he cannot memorize “Frosty the Snowman.” Once he gets to the traffic stop, he loses his place –
Are you bullying him? I interrupted her.
I never bully, she haughtily replied. I just told him if he didn’t learn the song correctly, we wouldn’t go caroling.
And how many songs are in your repertoire?
Four: “White Christmas,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” “Silent Night,” and “Frosty.” It’s the Big Finale.
You know, I’ve never seen carolers with production numbers. In my day we stood at the door or window in picturesque poses and sang.
Boring! I’m very proud of my Frosty routine.
Okay, I sighed, I will go boost his morale.
And when are you going to let us go caroling?
When this cold eases up. I was hoping for this Friday, but I don’t know long you will want to be out.
At least we have a tentative date now. Maybe he can get all the words right by then.
I think it’s cute that the baby can’t always get the words right. I rose from my chair and headed for the bathroom.
He’s no longer a baby.
He’s still a little boy and your little brother. When Thatch comes out, don’t bully him. I. Do. Not. Bully!
By Dec. 27th, I was sick of being bed bound, and I finally thought the cold was showing some signs of clearing out of my system. On Christmas Eve, I thought it was easing up and then it landed hard that night. I did not want to succumb to it, so I thougth my best move was to declare it gone and see how well it affected me.
Well, babies, I told Annabelle and Thatch, if you really want to go caroling, we can do it tomorrow night. They looked up at me from their breakfast dishes.
Really? Annabelle seemed surprised.
I’m feeling much better, so let’s plan this shindig.
Thatch looked so excited, I thought he’d wet himself.
Thatch! This caroling has been a lot of stress for you. Are you sure you want to go caroling?
Yes! Yes! He ran to Annabelle, who was doing her little polka step across the floor. We’ll be ready!
We will, Annabelle told me, but if you still feel poorly, we can make another date.
No, i’m ready to get out of bed and resume my usual boring existence. Getting sick is no fun after a couple of days of self-indulgence.
Well, you were no fun this week, Annabelle observed. Let’s go to Petco and shop. There must be something we need.
I want a new bow tie!
And I could use something with holly for my headdress.
All right, I said, happy to be moving again. As soon as I’m dressed, we’ll go shopping.
Little Thatch was so excited that he wet the floor. Annabelle rolled her eyes in dismay
Just promise me, Annabelle told Thatch, you will not do that when we are caroling.
I don’t know, Thatch answered.
I got the paper towels and the Lysol and cleaned up the spot. It’s never much and not and often as Annabelle claims.
There! I said. All cleaned up. Let me get my coat, and we’re off to Petco.
The bus ride up to 92nd Street was fun. I tried to keep them close to hand, but they had too much fun. Annabelle and Thatch sang and romped, and passengers either enjoyed their enthusiasm or stormed off the bus complaining about the hooligan cats. I smiled and nodded as I counted the blocks. We found a few items to deck the carolers and rushed home with our packages.
Naturally, best plans go astray, and Friday was a rainy day.
Rain? Rain? Annabelle was fraught.
Rats! was Thatch’s comment.
Look! It’s late afternoon, and the rain has not let up, I told them. I’m sorry, babies, but our caroling night has been rained out. We’ll postpone.
Postpone? Thatch was dismayed. He finally (? ? ?) had the words to “Frosty the Snowman” down, and he was fired up.
Thatch, Annabelle rubbed gear cheek against his, Daddy’s right. I’m a trouper, but I hate being wet. You couldn’t drag me out tonight. Let’s check the weekend weather report.
So, Annabelle and Thatch climbed onto my computer to look at the weather forecasts. That led to Annabelle’s need to check out the Petco site for new items.
Why? I asked. We were just there to get new caroling duds for you and Thatch?
I want to one sure I didn’t miss something, and if I did, we can exchange things before we go caroling.
She launched into Cy Coleman’s “Gimme A Rain Check” and sang it the rest of the afternoon.
So, Thatch, I asked him, are you sorry about tonight?
A bit. Once Annabelle decided I could sing “Frosty,” I stopped being afraid of going caroling. It’s a lot of words.
Well, you proved you could learn it-
One she stopped bullying me.
Your new bow tie gives you a lot of pizzazz, and you look so wonderful and happy when you sing it!
I didn’t add that his solo on “Frosty,” during Annabelle’s dance break – if he doesn’t get nervous and wet himself or forget the lyrics – will be absolutely charming, a nice bit of simplicity to Annabelle’s baroque performance.
They spent the evening perfecting the caroling performance and the stage business. I knew it would go well, and I was beginning to feel some excitement for their caroling appearance.
On Saturday night, decked out in their caroling costumes, Annabelle and Thatch braved the elements to bring some class to the Upper West Side. Thatch wore earmuffs, his new Christmas bow tie, and a green striped muffler that really highlighted his orange and white coat. Annabelle wore a black and white muffler, her studded collar, and a little sprig of holly tucked behind her ear.
That black and white looks so good with your gray coat, and that touch of red in the holly is inspired, Annabelle. You look a bit like Billie Holiday, I observed. I could see she was flattered.
I like to keep things simple, but elegant, she replied.
Simple? Thatch and I rolled our eyes. We didn’t think she knew the meaning of the word.
So, where are we going? Thatch asked.
Just around the neighborhood. We won’t be out too long, just a couple of stops. Let’s see if we can get to Richard’s apartment on 81st Street. He’ll love Frosty!
You got those words down, Thatch? Annabelle said sharply.
Yes! Yes! Let’s go!
Do you need to potty before we go, Thatch? I asked him.
I’m okay.
I could see he was excited, and I really wanted no social errors while we were out having fun. People never remember the artistry or craft. They remember the gaffes: the horse shitting onstage, the costume gaffes, the puppy humping the trainer, the lion eating a clown . . .
I grabbed my cap and my cane.
Okay, babies, let’s go, I opened the door to the apartment and Annabelle and Thatch scampered down the hall to the elevator. It’s showtime!
It was a short night of caroling. I little suspected a disaster was on the horizon when we exited the apartment into the chilly evening air. We got to the corner of Amsterdam and 82nd Street when Annabelle’s face dropped.
Oh, Christmas Tree Lane is over! Annabelle said in dismay. I really wanted to saunter through it and smell the evergreen and look at the wreathes and trees.
You remember that from last year? I asked her.
Well, I only had short looks as you carried me in my carrier, but why isn’t it still here?
They take it down on Christmas Eve when the tree sales are over, I told her. We’ll have to see it next year when you go caroling.
If you don’t get sick again, Annabelle said.
I don’t remember it at all, Thatch said to her.
Well, Thatch, she said, you were really sick last year, with your eye infection, and you were still a really little baby.
Now I’m big! Thatch said enthusiastically. I’m –
Ninja Cat! he and Annabelle both yelled.
Annabelle’s good mood was restored, and we crossed Amsterdam for our first caroling station right in front of the health food store. Annabelle and Thatch took their positions and started “White Christmas.” I stood aside to watch my two darlings achieve one of their goals. Passersby stopped to watch them, a few rude ones laughed over the racket as they walked on, but Annabelle and Thatch had the time of their lives singing through their repertoire. “Frosty the Snowman” was going well when Thatch stepped forward for his solo. Annabelle had handed me her muffler and put on her top hat. As soon as Thatch begin his “hippity hop hop, “ she launched into her dance.
You! she screamed, and she stopped dancing. Thatch immediately stopped singing. Just as suddenly she leaped onto the shoulder of a young man in the crowd while Thatch yelled, It’s the man with the python!, and he, too, jumped onto the man. He grabbed Thatch by the throat, and I stuck out my cane. He tripped and fell to the sidewalk. As he yelled for help, Annabelle and Thatch bit his ears, scratched his face, and struggled to get to his neck. The crowd, realizing this was not a part of the caroling performance, backed away in shock. Then they pulled out their cell phones and began taking pictures of the spectacle. The young man’s girl friend was shouting for help when a policeman and a policewoman suddenly arrived. The precinct’s only half a block away.
The policeman kneeled down to check on the man, who was bleeding profusely from several bites and ugly scratches. The young lady with him was trying to pull Annabelle from his ear lobe with one hand while the other hand was fighting Thatch, who had climbed onto her head and was tangled in her hair. I wonder how many Youtube hits this will get, I thought.
What’s going on? the policewoman asked me.
My cats recognized this man as the person who tried to kidnap them last September. I think he’s feeding kittens and small animals to his pet python. As soon as they recognized him, they jumped him.
We’ve had a lot of missing cat reports lately, she said. Let me talk to my partner.
Annabelle! Thatch! Stop that, I commanded, to no good.
I watched the police untangle the cats from their victims and thought, I’ve never seen either of them so vicious, but that jerk sure caused a lot of problems last year. Annabelle and Thatch sheepishly sat and my feet. Her holly was missing, his bow tie was bloodied, and his ear muffs were a shambles.
I’m going to soak that muffler in cold water when we get home, Thatch, I told him.
Why? he asked me.
To get the blood out.
Did you save my life? Thatch asked.
Let’s just say I helped you out when you needed it. I do hope you two are not going to jail.
Are you mad at us, Daddy? Annabelle asked.
I don’t know yet. You certainly ruined your caroling evening.
The police restored some order and dispersed the crowd. The young lady was only too happy to tell them about her boyfriend’s pet snake, its diet, and an approximate number of young cats and puppies she had seen enter the apartment in the past six months. A police car shortly pulled up and the young man and woman were loaded into the back of it.
Mr. Moore? the policewoman asked. I think we’ll need you to come to the precinct and file a report. I think your cats have closed a case of missing pets over the past year. We also need proof of their vaccinations.
They just had them, I said. Annabelle in November, and Thatch about two weeks ago.
Good. That should save them from a Department of Health quarantine, but it’s too bad we can’t put that sick scumbag through a series of rabies shots. You didn’t hear me say that.
Not a word, I said. Do you want me to come over now?
No, she said. Here’s my card. Come by tomorrow afternoon. We have to book our prisoners tonight. What are your cats’ names?
That’s Annabelle and the shy one is Thatch.
Well, thank you. I will see you tomorrow?
Yes, ma’am. I said. Come on, babies, let’s go home before you raise more hell.
As I gathered up the caroling debris, Annabelle and Thatch said goodbye to the police and a photographer who was snapping their photos.
The Daily News headline above the photo of Annabelle and Thatch in the next day’s front page read “CAROLING CATS GO BERSERK ON AMSTERDAM.”
And the Youtube hits were enormous!
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 