Weeping loudly and profusely, I sat in front of the computer screen. What I had just read was so upsetting that I burst immediately into tears. From various parts of the apartment three cats came running and gathered at my feet. Stella flopped onto my foot. Annabelle immediately jumped onto the table.
What happened, Daddy? Are you sad? Daddy?
I couldn’t speak.
Daddy! Annabelle moved from the table to my lap. What happened?
Tell us! Thatch reached up and clutched my left knee with his front paws. Why are you crying?
I wiped my eyes. You all know my friend Charles?
No, Thatch said. Do I?
That’s because, Annabelle replied, you always hide when he visits! He takes our pictures. He got some nice shots of you, and I always look fantastic in his photos.
Oh, him!
See? You do remember. Did something happen to him?
Not to Charles, I said. His cat Poe is dying, and I feel so sorry for him. I started to weep again.
Oh, no! Poor Poe, Annabelle cried.
How sad for him! Thatch cried.
I sat there, listening to two little cats weep for an older cat they had never met. I suspected that Annabelle mourned as well her friend Nora, the small dog on the fifth floor who had died months before. I did not want to tell them that his eighteen-year-old Poe had been suffering from kidney disease for the past two years and the time had finally come to euthanize him. I wept for my friend, and Poe, knowing that at some point, unless they outlive me, I might have to do the same for Annabelle, Stella, or Thatch. The thought both terrified me and made me wish I had never decided to adopt. I didn’t know if I wept more for Charles, Poe, myself, or my babies.
Stella removed herself from my foot and joined her weeping brother and sister in wailing. Stella’s such a strange cat. I didn’t know if she were moved by the news of Poe’s death or if she thought we were ready for another round of Floyd Collins. I’ll have to see if she picks up a tambourine and starts beating it, I guess.
Annabelle dried her eyes and jumped from my lap to the floor. Well, I can tell you one thing, Daddy. You won’t have to worry about me because I am never never going to die.
That’s not true, Annabelle! Thatch said. You will get old and die, like all of us.
Are you going to die, Daddy?
I feel I’m living on borrowed time a lot these days.
That’s only because of your surgery, Thatch said.
Borrowed time? Annabelle laughed. Sometimes you make no sense at all! You can’t borrow time.
It’s an expression, Missy, I said.
Can you go next door to Auntie Judy and ask to borrow a cup of time? She laughed. Time isn’t like sugar.
Sometimes English expressions elude you, silly girl.
I am a star and I will never die, Thatch. Isn’t that true, Daddy?
Well, Annabelle, I’d like to hope you’re right . . .
See, Thatch? I told you.
He didn’t say you were right, Annabelle.
He didn’t?
You never listen to anyone.
Well, Thatch, I don’t want to talk about death any more. Annabelle the cat is alive! And I’m on my way to stardom and legend!
Oh, brother, Thatch muttered as he turned away. He jumped onto my bed and vanished inside the cavern I had created for him from grandma’s quilt.
Oh, I forgot! I called after him. Your birthday was yesterday, Thatch! Happy birthday, baby!
Annabelle gave me a funny look. How could you forget his birthday?
Thatch stuck his head out of the cave. You forgot my birthday?
Well, I wasn’t around when you were born in the Bronx. I brought you home with me on November ninth, and that’s the really important day. As far as I’m concerned, that’s your birthday, Thatcher.
What’s mine? Annabelle asked.
Your birthday is November seventeen, and I adopted you on September thirtieth. You were ten months old, and such a little cutie.
And now I’m a beauty. Everyone thinks so. And Stella?
Well, she followed you and Thatch home on May twenty-fourth. She was really tiny.
Stella, you were so small then! Annabelle said.
Knowing she was being discussed, Stella rubbed against my leg and danced around Annabelle.
I’d guess, only about three months old, I said.
Well, look at her now, Annabelle said. She’s half my age and twice my size!
Mine, too! Thatch said.
Stella stopped dancing. She looked at Thatch, then turned to look at Annabelle. With a leap she jumped onto my lap, climbed my shirt to my shoulder, bit my ear, leaped onto the bad and chased Thatch back into his cave.
She’s impossible, Annabelle stated. No couth at all!
©2020, Larry Mo
Annabelle & Thatch 