The morning had been far too fraught for comfort. I had gone wild when the payment for Martin’s concerts came in. The cats got food and treats, I ordered supplies for the apartment and my worktable, and the shipments arrived in huge cartons I needed to unpack in the lobby to drag up to the third floor in small bundles. This day had been particularly intense, and by noon, thanks to the dreadful heat and humidity, I had to remove my T-shirt to dry and lie down to ease the pains in my legs. Well, it was almost time for our soaps, and I could use a nap if I nodded off during them. After checking out the new arrivals, a bored Annabelle had retired to her office in the linen closet, and Thatch, Stella, and I collapsed onto the bed. As I drifted in and out of sleep, Stella curled up next to me between my left arm and chest.
This is wet! Thatch exclaimed as he lay down on my T-shirt.
I’m sorry, Thatch, I told him. It’s the humidity today. It isn’t raining, but I swear the humidity is over 100% at the moment.
What does that mean? What is humanity?
It’s humidity, Thatch. It’s the amount of moisture in the air. When it gets really high, it usually means rain, but hot weather and a high humidity level are a deadly combination.
Then what’s humanity?
Good question, Thatch. Ow! Dammit!
I had been unconsciously stroking Stella’s back and head as I lay there. From out of the blue, she had dug her claws into my wrist and bitten the fleshy part of my hand under my thumb. The bite was hard, and the pain was terrible. I carefully removed her paws from my wrist, and she jumped up and leaped over me to the floor,
What the hell, Stella? I yelled as I watched her vanish into the kitchen. God, that hurt!
She loves you, you know, Thatch stated.
Says who?
She tells that to me and Annabelle all the time.
Well, you love me, too, but you don’t bite and scratch. That cat has a screw loose.
I don’t know what that means, Thatch told me.
That’s okay, Thatcher.
Annabelle says Stella marches to her own drum, and we must be happy when she decides to leave her march to join ours. She tells me that a lot, every time Stella acts crazy..
Uh, okay. That’s very smart of our little Missy Belle.
Our soap came on, and Thatch left my damp T-shirt to sit with me and watch the outrageous plot twists and turns. About halfway through the program, Stella jumped onto the bed and curled up beside me again. I cautiously scratched the top of her head and she stretched out next to me, rolled onto her back, exposing the beautiful white diamond patterns on her belly, and fell asleep.
Crazy cat, I thought. Instead, I sai,d Now, see, Thatch? She’s perfectly sweet and loving again. I tenderly stroked her tummy, and she was completely docile.
I told you she loves you!
If I doze off, Thatch, you have to tell me what I missed.
I do? What if I fall asleep?
That’s okay. We’ll catch up tomorrow.
I’m very sleepy, he told me.
That evening, I needed a bathroom break while we were watching Damn Yankees, since Annabelle wanted to see if she would be a good Lola. I turned on the bathroom light, and Stella lay comfortably in the bathroom sink.
Stella! I exclaimed, what are you doing in that sink?
She gave me her usual “I think the birds are so pretty tonight” look I get whenever she’s off in her own fantasy world, so I used the toilet and turned to wash my hands.
Stella? Stella? You need to get out of the sink, I need to wash my hands.
She gave me her look again and did nothing. I reached into the basin, picked her up gingerly so I didn’t hurt her by scraping her against the faucet as she hissed and snarled. As soon as she was on the floor, she bit my ankle and ran out of the bathroom.
The next morning, deliveries showed up in a steady stream. There were cartons of kitty litter, a heavy carton of cat food and treats that took me several trips to bring up to the apartment. Then Amazon deliveries began to arrive between 1:00 and 3:00. By then, Stella and Annabelle were in a frenzy of curiosity and a strong desire to help me unpack everything while I was nearly comatose from the mess of cartons, packing materials, and purchases.
The morning was fine. I was delighted so much was coming in for the babies, especially since I had run out of Thatch’s shrimp treats days before. He was delighted by the news, and he, Stella, and Annabelle romped through the cartons and packing materials. Stella was so delighted, she followed me or ran ahead to turn around to brush against my legs.
Where the fat hell am I going to put all this? I wondered; I need a sherpa. Instead, I said very gently, Stella, baby, be careful. Don’t let Daddy drop something on you or fall over you. Move, baby girl.
That was the morning. By 3:00, with the Amazon deliveries littering the apartment along with the cat food and litter, I was beyond fraught. By my last trip to put the cartons of Fancy Feast onto the shelves where the cat food lived, Stella was in a complete dither of excitement. I was snarling and yelling, Dammit, Stella, move your ass! Stay out of the way. Damned cat!
The last thing I remembered was taking bottles of vitamins from an open Amazon carton and setting them on the computer table. Then, turning, I lost my balance and fell backward. Don’t let me hit my head, I thought as I grabbed for the computer chair and took it down with me. My head was safe, and the chair crashed to the floor beside me, but I landed on my right hip, knocking the wind out of me and sending fierce waves of pain up and down both legs. I remember thinking that rolling onto my back after landing on my hip would make it awkward in getting up. Then I passed out.
When I came to, I opened my eyes to see three cats staring at me. Annabelle sat on my chest, and Stella and Thatch were at my shoulders.
Stop licking his face, Stella, Annabelle said sharply. Have some respect for the dead.
Well, hello, babies, I moaned.
You’re not dead! Thatch sounded surprised.
No, it will take more than a fall to kill me. Who said I was dead?
I said I thought you were dead, Annabelle replied haughtily.
Well, Missy, I am not dead, but I sure hurt. I hurt all over. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, I hope my hip is okay.
It’s time for our treats, so, come on, get up, get up!
Annabelle, just give me a minute. I have t figure out how I am going to get off this floor.
Okay, fine. She got off my chest and walked away.
I lay there debating my options. I could turn slightly to my left, but I could not turn over because of the pain. When I turned to my right, the pains in my hip were unbearable. I lay back. There was nothing I could hold onto to lift myself up. I needed the phone. I would call Ann and Jen. If they were home, I could ask them to come down and help me. Then I remembered: the phone was charging. I couldn’t get to it in my current condition. I could lie here and yell for help. Then I remembered I had locked the door. No one could get into the apartment.
We’re waiting for our treats! Annabelle called from the cat tree.
I’m gonna kill that cat, I thought. She’ll be in splints the rest of her life. Instead, I said nothing. I pushed the chair out of the way, and then began to push myself away from the table with my feet. When my head struck my nightstand, I knew I was as close to the bed as I could get. I violently threw myself to my right. There was much pain as the pressure on my hip wavered before I accomplished the turn and ended up on my stomach. Stella walked about and continue4d to rub against me. Dammit, Stella, I thought, just go away, please, please . . .
Daddy! Annabelle yelled, it’s time for our treats. Feed me, Seymour!
Annabelle! Thatch yelled. Give him a moment.
I lay on the floor for another minute waiting for the pain to subside and my body to relax. I then got onto my knees and, placing my chest onto the mattress, slowly lifted myself to my feet. Once up, I took a quick assessment of all my fragile areas. Nothing broken, thank God.
Okay, babies, I told them, it’s time for your treat.
I’m starving, Annabelle moaned. Feed me!
Hold on, hold on, babies, I’m still a bit shaky. Let me get my bearings.
I pushed the chair to the cat tree, and gripping the seat in both hands, I gingerly lowered myself to the floor. Two cats cheered while Stella danced around me in anticipation.
After I gave the cats their nightly treats, I lay down. My right hip ached, I was still winded by the exertion to get off the floor, and I was angry at myself for losing my balance. I got my cell phone and disconnected it from its charger, making a mental note: when moving about the apartment, do not charge the phone! Keep it in your pocket.
The cats ran to join me as they finished their treats. Annabelle was first. She jumped onto the bed and climbed onto my chest, Once settled there, she looked into my face.
How are you feeling? she asked.
I’ll live, Annabelle, but I’ll be sore for a couple of days.
Will you be okay in time for my commercial? I don’t want to lose this job.
Annabelle was supposed to shoot her second commercial for a pet supplies company on Tuesday after Labor Day, and she was very excited. It was her first job since 2019.
I promise, Missy. We’ll be there next week. Don’t worry about it.
Thatch jumped onto the foot of the bed, licked his chops, and proceeded to groom himself. Good. That was good, Thatch proclaimed.
Thank you, Daddy, she said as she sat up. She leaped from me to the pillow lying next to me where she sleeps every night. What are we going to watch tonight?
I don’t know, Annabelle. Anything you’d like?
Not Jaws! Thatch yelled. He walked up my legs to my chest. Nothing scary!
How was your treat, Thatch?
I said it was good! The shrimpies were nice, but it’s too hot, Daddy. I wish they made cat popsicles.
Let’s watch The Pajama Game! Annabelle yelled. I love Doris Day.
Yes! Thatch agreed. I do, too! He began to sing “This is my once-a-year day” and Annabelle joined in.
Okay. All right, let me get up. Make me work, babies.
I rose up. The pain was bad, but I got to my feet, grabbed my cane, and limped to the filing cabinet holding the musical DVDs. I put the disc into the player and wandered back to bed. As I passed the cat tree, Stella, finishing up her treat and Annabelle’s and Thatch’s, walked beside me. As I sat on the edge of the bed, she jumped up beside me.
Move over, Stella, I advised her. I gotta lie down. Move over, baby.
She only thinks about herself, Annabelle observed.
Thatch rolled his eyes, and I said nothing.
I lay back onto Stella, and she wiggled out from under me. Once I’d started the DVD and settled back, she curled up beside me. Thatch ran to the foot of the bed, where he leaned over the railing to watch the movie. Annabelle ran down beside him. I watched the movie and casually stroked Stella, who seemed very happy lying beside me.
Doris had just begun “I’m not at all in love” when Stella suddenly stiffened, then quickly turned over and dug her front claws into my wrist. I yelled in pain and jerked my hand away from her side. She hissed angrily at me and pulled back as if to attack.
Dammit, Stella! What the hell is wrong with you?
She hissed again, and I slapped her hard on her rump. She jumped up and leaped from the bed. I paid no attention to where she headed; I was too busy checking for blood.
What happened? Annabelle asked.
Stella just attacked me.
She’s just plain crazy. She ought to be on medications.
I can’t hear the movie, Thatch complained.
Can you go back to the beginning of the song? Please, Daddy? Please?
Okay. I stopped the DVD. Now, before we go back to the movie, I need to put some disinfectant on these scratches.
Well, hurry up, Annabelle said. I like this song.
Hold on, Missy. I’m not moving fast.
Is it the result of your fall? she asked,
It’s too hot.
It is very warm, Annabelle agreed, Could you turn up the AC while you’re moving about?
All right, all right, I muttered. I’m just so sweaty.
It’s the humanity, Thatch told us.
©2022, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 