Annabelle! You are working my last nerve, Missy!
I was having dinner when Annabelle decided she was bored watching me eat, so she leaped from the table to the top of the chest of drawers. Her kick sent my glass flying and juice ended up all over me and the table.
Cute, Missy, I thought, as I ran for paper towels to mop up the mess. When I sat back down to dinner, she and Thatch had decided to play tag. She jumped onto the table, then leaped up to the filing cabinets before jumping back onto the table. Then she ran into the bathroom with Thatch in hot pursuit. Another spill, and that’s when I yelled at her, Dammit, Annabelle! Don’t you ever look before you leap?
While I mopped the table again, she and Thatch sat at my feet in silence and watched me seethe.
Listen, kids, I let you two eat in peace, so why don’t you let me? Why are you two so rambunctious? Give Daddy a break.
What was that word you just used? Annabelle sweetly asked.
What did I say? Uh, rambunctious?
Rambunctious! Yes. Thatch, he said we are rambunctious. And then she laughed.
Rambunctious! Thatch yelled, and they both burst into noisy laughter and rolled around the floor at my feet.
Is that a promotion or demotion from calling us scalawags last week? Annabelle asked.
One sarcastic kitten is bad enough, but two are impossible. I grabbed my wallet, left the apartment, and walked over to Barnes & Noble to regain my equilibrium. I browsed through the mystery and general fiction sections, purchased a couple of books, and then walked over to the deli on Amsterdam Avenue. I was over my pique, and they do love a slice of deli turkey every now and then.
Daddy’s home! Where are my babies?
Are you still angry? a voice called down from the linen closet. Annabelle had moved her office from the top of the bookshelves to the depths of the linen closet. She says the privacy is inspiring her writing of her musical.
No. Why? You two know I love you. I’ve brought you a treat.
Two kittens emerged from the linen closet.
Is it a contract for me to star in CATS?
No, Annabelle. I’m sorry.
Is it a shiny toy?
No, Thatch. I’m sorry.
They looked at me in pitiful silence. After a big sigh, they returned to the linen closet. As they left, Annabelle was telling Thatch, We need to fix that dialogue after the Cockroach Ballet . . .
Wait! Wait! I called. It’s deli turkey.
Deep in discussion, they ignored me. I made myself a turkey sandwich and sat down, to begin a new mystery. Stella jumped onto the table,, grabbed a piece of turkey sticking out between the pieces of bred and dragged the sandwich to the floor.
Annabelle & Thatch 