Caught you! Annabelle yelled. She jumped onto my bed. Carrying on behind my back! How dare you?
Thatch and I guiltily looked up from the bed to face a raging Annabelle. Thatch staggered to his feet.
Annabelle! Uh, I . . . I . . . His voice trailed off.
Traitor! she yelled. Sneaking around behind my back!
I’m not sneaking, Annabelle!
Some brother! You’ve broken my heart. How can I trust you ever again? What nerve!
Annabelle, I said. Calm down, Missy!
Unfaithful cad! She turned to me. I gave you the best years of my life.
Annabelle, I stammered, why are carrying on so?
You . . . you . . . you!
With that she turned, leaped off my bed, and vanished into the linen closet. I turned to Thatch. We looked at each other for a few seconds and burst into laughter.
Oh, Missy’s not happy today, Thatch!
She was really angry. Should I apologize? I don’t want her mad at me.
No. Don’t you dare.
Why?
She’s been asking for it for a week now, and it’s about time someone taught her a lesson.
When Annabelle was still a little girl, I purchased a nice brush for her. Every time I tried to brush her, she fought me and refused to go along with it, so I put it away and forgot about it for over a year. About six months ago, I discovered it in the cats’ toy box. Thatch was napping on my bed, and I quietly sneaked up on him and began to brush his back. It was amazing. It was quite orgasmic and clearly better than catnip. He stretched in ecstasy, moaned, whimpered, and rolled about as I brushed his back, top of his head, tummy, and under his chin.
You liked that a lot, Thatch! I said when I stopped brushing him.
That was amazing! How did you know to do that?
I just brushed you, that’s all.
Do it again!
What’s the magic word?
Please?
Okay. Lie down for round two.
Well, I created a Frankenstein. Every time I approached my bed – to make it, lie down, or simply pass by it -Thatch jumped onto it, settled in the middle, and waited to be brushed. I couldn’t always satisfy him, and he would sulk off to play with Stella or help Annabelle with her career. Still, every night when I turned off the TV and turned down the bed, little Thatch would jump onto my bed, and I would give him a thorough brushing.
About two weeks ago, Annabelle discovered my nightly ritual with Thatch. She had been sleeping on my lap – sometimes Midsomer Murders doesn’t hold her interest – and when I moved her to turn off the TV and prepare for bed, she curled up on one of my pillows. As I was brushing him, she strolled past us, and I impulsively ran the brush across her back.
Ah! she cooed. That feels so wonderful! More, please.
Let me finish brushing Thatch, I told her.
She waited. Her patience, which has a low threshold, was amazing, but I noticed her closely observing Thatch’s reaction to the brush. When he ran off to play with Stella and I began to brush Annabelle, her reaction was similar to his. She gasped for air, she screamed, she rolled about, she buried her face in my elbow and moaned.
I felt like a pervert.
Ever since then, as soon as I began to brush Thatch, Annabelle made a complete ass of herself. She tried to throw herself between Thatch and the brush, she rolled about with him and mocked his behavior. Then, as soon as Thatch withdrew in frustration, she would demand more and more brushings while I scolded her.
Annabelle, you are a naughty little girl. Why are you so mean to Thatch?
What? I don’t understand you.
He loves you, and you treat him so badly at times.
I don’t.
You do.
I don’t.
You treat him like garbage.
Can you get under my chin again?
Thatch took Annabelle’s treatment stoically, but I worried what would happen. This had been our time together, and now it was Daddy’s and Annabelle’s time. I decided the only thing to do was to brush Thatch in the late morning while Annabelle took her beauty sleep. Every morning around 10:00, when I had finished my housekeeping chores and made the bed, Stella stretched out at the foot of my bed for a long nap, Annabelle retired to her hammock to nap until 3:00 when it was nearly time for dinner. This was the perfect time for us. Thatch then hopped onto the bed and I brushed him for fifteen minutes or so. Completely limp after the workout, he would either curl up beside me and nap with me or he would climb into the cat tree and sleep until dinner.
Now that Annabelle had caught us, I figured it was time to talk to her about sharing. It’s a concept she refuses to understand, and we’ve been through this several times.
Okay, Thatch, I have to brave the linen closet and talk to Missy.
Be careful. You can get lost in there.
Maybe she will come out if I ask her?
I don’t know.
Well, I have to try.
Tell her I’m sorry she’s hurt.
No, I will not. She took away something that makes you happy, and she’s being very selfish. I need to confront her.
Well, good luck.
He jumped off the bed and ran to the window to see what was happening on West 82nd Street. Stella sat up, looked at Thatch in the window, then walked over to me as I sat on the edge of the bed.
Ah, Stella! Pretty little girl, I said as I picked her up.
She bit my nose.
Missy? I called into the linen closet. Annabelle, do you want to come and talk to Daddy?
No! echoed through the depths of the linen closet. I could hear that she was playing a Chicago cast recording on her iTunes, but the sound was too soft to tell exactly which recording. “He had it comin’’” was the tune.
Annabelle, Princess? I whined, you know I’ll get lost in there if I come looking for you.
Good!
Won’t you come out and talk to me? We need to discuss this seriously.
Annabelle jumped from a shelf of towels and landed at my feet.
I do not want to talk to you ever again, but I’m obligated to give you this. She handed me a sheet of paper.
What is this? I took it from her.
A subpoena. I’m suing you and Thatch for alienation of affection. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow.
I laughed. Annabelle, this is ridiculous. You are the most litigious kitty I know. We are not going to court over this.
Why not?
You’re my little girl! You cannot sue your daddy because you’re jealous of his time spent with your little brother. You’re a minor until you’re eighteen, so just forget this and calm down.
Why are you playing with Thatch behind my back?
Because, Annabelle, you have deliberately and selfishly taken away my usual time with Thatch every night and made it about you. That wasn’t nice.
Nonsense.
You spend so much time during the day relying on Thatch for your career and Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts that my only time with him is just before bed. You really hurt his feelings when you butted in, so I told him that I’d brush him when you were sleeping and didn’t need his help.
I hurt him?
You did. He loved a good brushing and you took it away.
Where’s my time with you?
All the time, but especially when we went on morning patrol.
You stopped that.
It wasn’t intentional.
Why don’t we do that any more?
My legs got bad and I couldn’t chase you up and down the stairs. We’ll start doing that again. I promise.
Okay. Will you keep that promise?
Yes, I promise. Don’t you think Thatch’s feelings were hurt when we used to go on patrol without him?
He could have come along.
Oh, Annabelle, you know he was too frightened back then to leave the apartment.
Oh, yes! He was a scaredy cat, wasn’t he? She laughed.
Yes, the baby was. And you helped him become braver.
Of course I did. I’m a trend setter, a role model. We stars have obligations to our public.
It’s no fun when you think someone else is getting better treatment than you. I don’t want any of you to feel slighted. I love all three of my babies.
She gave me one of her “I was going to say something but I forgot” looks.
So, after a moment of watching her, I asked, Can I tear up this subpoena? I’m an old coot and I can handle this lawsuit, but Thatch? Well, you know he adores you. It would kill him.
I can’t do that! Give me that paper.
She took the paper from my hand and leaped onto the shelf of towels. I’ve got to email my attorney and tell him it’s off!
Wait! I called after her. Which Chicago recording were you playing?
From some distance away she shouted back, Chita and Gwen. The only one!
I stumbled out of the linen closet. Stella was waiting for me. She jumped on my foot and bit my ankle.
©2020, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 