It was the first beautiful day of early April after a period of chilly weather and rain. Annabelle, Thatch, and I sat on the steps into the lobby of the building. We were watching the parade of nannies, delivery men, dog-walkers, and casual strollers passing the huge windows of the lobby. Occasionally a brave pigeon or sparrow would dodge them as they searched for food in the curb around the parked cars or on the sidewalk.
I wish we had a window this large in the apartment! Thatch told us
Where are the cats? Annabelle asked me. Cats never walk by here, only dogs. I wish a few cats would walk by.
I have never seen cats on the street, I told her. I don’t like it when you and Thatch are out on your own.
You worry too much, she said. She rose from the steps, stretched, and sauntered down the four steps to the front door. I wish we could go outside.
I don’t think so. You two always get into trouble. I wish I didn’t worry about you so much.
Annabelle turned back to us. I wish we could go back to Central Park for a picnic.
I wish we could, too! Thatch enthusiastically agreed.
Next month, I said. When it’s warmer.
Annabelle ran up the steps and joined us. I like it when we all go on patrol.
We sat quietly for a few moments, watching the parade pass. Across the street a man of indeterminate age hosed down the sidewalk in front of Holy Trinity Church. A nanny pushing a stroller and talking ion a cell phone ambled east toward Amsterdam Avenue.
Oh! Did you see that cute little bulldog? I asked.
I saw it, Thatch said. He scared me.
I’m not afraid of dogs, Annabelle said.
Well, I said, you met several of them during your public service work at Doggie Daycare.
Some were nice, Annabelle said, although I don’t think they really appreciated having a star around.
Thatch laughed. You were too much for them. They were afraid of you, Annabelle!
If I brought home a dog, I said, I wish you would be nice to him. Or her.
Bring home a dog? Thatch sounded horrified. Why? I don’t know if we would get along.
I’ve been thinking about it because I like dogs, and I might want to rescue one from being killed at the animal shelter some day.
I told you to stay off that dogs-at-risk site! Annabelle said sharply. Now I know why you’ve been looking at it.
It’s a nice thought, Thatch said, but what if the dog wanted to eat us?
Or we wanted to eat him? Annabelle asked.
I know. That’s what’s keeping me from doing it. Still, I wish we could make it work.
Well, before you do it, Annabelle stated, I hope you will bestow on us the courtesy of a consultation about such a rash action.
Thatch laughed. Big words! Annabelle’s been reading Restoration comedy again!
I am a kitty of cultured tastes, she proudly answered. Oh, look!
As a flock of pigeons foraging in the wide space between two parked cars flew into the air in an explosion of fluttering wings and shifting patterns of black, gray and white, Annabelle and Thatch ran down the four steps of the lobby to the large window. They watched the flock rise to a height of maybe fifteen to twenty feet before they dispersed and flew off in various directions.
That was beautiful! Annabelle said to Thatch. Some days I wish I could fly.
Yes! Thatch said. Wouldn’t that be fun?
What would you wish, Thatcher? I asked him.
I wish I could have everything I want. I think. Is that a good wish?
It’s a nice wish, I said, but we can’t always get everything we want. I wish I weren’t a gimp and that my leg wasn’t such a pain. Wishing won’t ever change that.
Then I wish that for you, Thatch told me. He ran up the four steps and jumped into my lap.
That’s a kind wish, I stroked his back, and a very generous one.
And I wish Annabelle’s dreams would come true, he said. She works hard.
I do, she turned from the window.
What do you wish, Annabelle? Thatch asked. Do you wish you could see Val every day?
Sometimes.
You two see Val almost every day! I said.
I can never see enough of Val! Oh, Val! Annabelle said passionately as she swooned on the steps. Thatch and I laughed.
Silly Annabelle, Thatch laughed.
Annabelle rose from her swoon. And a lot of times I wish Trump wasn’t president, she told us, since I hate Daylight Savings Time. I know he’s behind it.
Annabelle, listen to Daddy. I’ve told you over and over that’s not true.
I don’t believe you. I know he’s behind it.
I rolled my eyes at Thatch. He ran back down to the window, where he and Annabelle gazed out at the street.
It’s a busy morning on 82nd Street, Annabelle observed. I guess it’s because it’s so bright and sunny.
And it’s cool, not too warm yet, I added.
I wish the weather would always be this nice, Thatch sighed.
I do, too, Thatcher. I stood up. Well, come on, kids. Let’s go back up. I’ve got some things to do and we can’t waste the day sitting here and wishing.
I turned from the door and walked down the first floor hallway to the stairs. Annabelle and Thatch darted past me and ran up to the first floor landing.
I wish I could keep up with you two! I said. When I got to the landing, they laughed and ran ahead of me to the second floor.
You want to know what I really wish? she asked. I wish R.U. Fémos would hurry up and make me a star. This waiting is getting old.
Old! I exclaimed. You’re still a little girl.
I still haven’t made the cover of Time or Entertainment Weekly yet!
©2019, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 