I liked taking the 104 bus to 68th Street and Broadway on Saturday mornings. From there I could check out the latest movies at the cinemax, hit the post office on Columbus Avenue, stop at my pharmacy on Amsterdam if I wished, and then browse at the Juilliard book store before I ended up at the Lincoln Center farmers market. I bought some fresh vegetables, a bag of apple cider donuts, and caught the bus back uptown.
Did you bring me anything? Thatch asked me.
Did you see Val? Annabelle asked.
I did and I didn’t, I told them.
You never make any sense, Annabelle said.
Well, I did bring you something. I stopped at the Juilliard shop and bought Annabelle the vocal selections for Evita, and I stopped at Zabar’s and got some salmon for Thatch.
Two enthusiastic kitties threw their baseball caps into the air and jumped about my feet. Stella, who never says a word, jumped off the shelf onto my shoulder and bit my ear lobe. I set her on the floor, and put the groceries away.
So, what’s going on? I asked them. These are new costumes you’re wearing. I like your baseball caps. Sweatshirts, sweatpants . . . what’s up.
We’re coaching Stella, Annabelle explained. Thatch and I are entering her in the Kitty Olympics for 2020!
She’s such a jock! Thatch said.
This is exciting. Stella’s a good athlete. What games is she good at? I sat down at the table and opened the bag of donuts.
All of them! Thatch shouted.
Some of them. Some need work. Annabelle consulted her clipboard. She’s an excellent wrestler, but her tree climbing speed is really exceptional.
Her running needs focus, Thatch said. She gets sidetracked too easily.
These donuts are so good, I told them. I need some coffee.
I stood up and went to the kitchen. What other events are in the Kitty Olympics? I asked. All this is new to me.
Annabelle looked over the clipboard, There’s the broad jump and leaping. She’s good, but I’m better, so i’m coaching her.
And the Toilet Paper Roll, Thatch added. We practiced all morning. She’s not bad.
As I filled the pot with hot water, I noticed the pile of paper in the bathroom doorway. I set the pot on the stove, turned on the burner, then turned on the bathroom light.
What the hell? I yelled. The toilet paper holder was empty and piles of it littered the bathroom, draped over the litter box, their water bowl, and the bath tub. Look at this mess!
I closed the toilet seat and sat down. I began to pick up the soggy paper and stuff it into the trash bin.
Well, prepare yourself, Annabelle told me. It’s Stella’s best sport. She did that in record time. We need to coach her daily till the Olympics. She’s gonna win!
We’re gonna win the Olympics! Annabelle and Thatch sang, and they jumped around my feet in excitement. Stella pounced onto my shoe and bit my ankle.
I put the last of the soggy toilet paper into the waste bin and stood up. I reached for a clean roll from the shelf, unwrapped it, and inserted it into the holder.
Kids, I said, I hate to tell you, but I’m not sure I can afford this. Do you know what a roll of toilet paper daily for the next six months or so is going to cost?
I don’t know what anything costs, Thatch boasted.
That’s right, Annabelle said. What is cold cash to an artiste?
And coach! Thatch added.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I muttered.
Well, assistant coach, Annabelle said, I think we need to get back to training. Where’s our star athlete?
Thatch blew his whistle. Stella charged into the bathroom and jumped onto the toilet paper roll. Within seconds half of the roll was piled at her back feet as she spinned it.l
Hey! Stop! I yelled. Call her off, Thatch! I’m not letting you waste this roll.
Thatch blew his whistle, Annabelle checked her stopwatch. Stella sat down in front of the toilet paper holder. I picked up the pile of paper and tossed it into the trash.
She’s setting records! Annabelle cheered. Go, Stella!
Annabelle and Thatch tossed their baseball caps into the air while Stella jumped in and out of the bathtub and pranced around the floor,
When are these Olympics? I asked them. Are they even in this country? What are the dates? Stella, Stella, stop biting Daddy’s shoelaces.
I have that information somewhere, Annabelle answered, but the tone of her voice made me suspect that she was being intentionally evasive.
It’s too hot in this bathroom, I said. I want my coffee and more of those donuts. Who wants some salmon?
They all did. I have to feed Stella first. Otherwise she latches onto Annabelle’s or Thatch’s bowl and gobbles like mad. She’s cute, but she has absolutely no social graces. She bolted her salmon, then ran for Thatch’s treat. He grabbed the fish and ran under the bed.
Oh, God, I thought, if he doesn’t eat it all, the stink will last for weeks.
Stella turned to Annabelle’s salmon, but Annabelle’s look sent her running to the cat tree for refuge. Annabelle lay back and began to groom herself. She first washed her face.
She’s afraid of you, Annabelle.
She knows there are things that coaches will not tolerate.
You’re not mean to her?
Annabelle burped. That salmon is quite tasty! No, of course not. I’m coaching her, aren’t I? She does wear me out, but I can’t let anything distract me from my art. She gets along better with Thatch.
Their play reminds me of you and him when he first came here. Now he’s in your position and Stella’s Thatch.
Annabelle looked up from cleaning her front paw. She gave me a long, long look, then turned back to her paw.
Some days, you know, you make no sense at all.
She rose, stretched, and looked around. She blew her whistle.
Team Stella, she called. Back to work!
I poured some Irish cream to my coffee and drank it. Then I picked up another donut, and finished off the bottle of Bristol’s.
©2019, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 