Oh, Missy Bell! I called.
Yes? Annabelle turned back to me.
If I’m going to sweat over your breakfast, I replied, the least you can do is eat it.
It’s good, Annabelle! Thatch said, looking up from his dish.
I could hardly hear him from the grunts and snarls coming from Stella’s morning dining experience. For a cat with a tiny squeaky meow who never says anything, she’s the noisiest eater I have ever encountered.
I wasn’t very hungry, Annabelle said. She then leaped onto my computer table and looked at the unopened Backstage. This is the new issue? she asked me.
Yes, Missy, I brought it up last night with yesterday’s mail. Remember?
Well, I was busy. It was movie night.
Every Saturday night is movie night. Thatch, Stella, and Annabelle enact a movie for my enjoyment, and once it falls apart, I play a DVD of their choice and we all settle down to watch something they would like. Last night’s kitty performance was The Sound of Music, and I knew we were in trouble from the start because the cast of the movie is huge, too many roles for three kitties to cover all of them. Since Stella doesn’t sing or speak, her part is limited, but even worse, she gets bored and, to Annabelle’s anger and frustration, loses character. The other problem is poor little Thatch had to cover the Baron, Rolfe the teenage Nazi, and the Mother Superior. When he balked at playing a nun, Annabelle let him be a priest but, to add further insult to injury, Annabelle sang “Climb Every Mountain,” which further muddied up the continuity. Luckily for me, after thirty minutes Stella walked out of the show for a snack break, Annabelle threw a tantrum, and Thatch started singing, to the tune of “Oliver” from the musical Oliver!, “Annabelle, what the hell?” Before blows were struck, I suggested we watch something.
After I explained to Annabelle that Cat on a Hot tin Roof wasn’t about real cats, we watched That Darn Cat again. Annabelle wants to star in a musical version, and she swears she can play Siamese. Thatch gets into the kidnapping plot, and both cats love the fact that I once knew Grayson Hall, who plays the kidnapped woman. I provided nice treats for the cats and myself, we had a good time, and the evening ended peacefully.
As Annabelle settled down with her Backstage – always hoping someone will be casting a production of CATS – my doorbell rang. I took my cane off the foot of the bed and limped to the door and opened it. A young lady I did not recognize stood there.
Hello? Can I help you? I asked.
Hi! she said. I live next door in 200 West 82nd Street, and this package has been sitting in our lobby for about three months now.
She handed me a carton around 9×12 inches in size. I looked at the address. Yes, it was mine. I looked at the return address. It was a music publisher I used occasionally.
Oh, my God! I exclaimed. I completely forgot about this! Thank you so much. You are so kind to deliver it.
Well, I kept thinking at some point one of the carriers would pick it up and deliver it to you. This morning, I thought I’d just bring it over on my way to church. Have a good day.
You’re very kind, dear! Thank you so much.
Have a good day, Mr. Moore. she said as she turned and walked to the elevator.
You, too, dear, I called after her. Thanks again.
I closed the door and returned to the computer table. I had to step over Stella and Thatch who, having finished their breakfasts, were tearing into Annabelle’s.
Watch out, babies! I said as I stepped around them and sat down.
What’s that? Annabelle looked up from her Backstage.
A vocal score I had ordered and completely forgot about. A nice young lady from next door brought it to me. I unwrapped the score and thumbed through it. So, how’s your Backstage today? Anything good?
Well, no one’s casting CATS. I’m getting so tired of waiting.
Well, maybe R.U. Fémos will call you about a commercial or something.
R.U. Fémos of the “All About You” PR agency is Annabelle’s manager and agent. He adores her and appears to love the little girl hiding behind the Big Diva act she puts on. He’s also intrigued about having a cat as a client. I like him for that, and Annabelle remains in awe because he’s been in show business for a long time, knows everyone, and refuses to take her airs seriously. He’s got her a couple of cat food commercial auditions and the role of a Dublin cat at the Irish Rep.
Well, I hope so, Daddy. I never thought I’d have to wait so long to be a star.
You know, Annabelle, I told her, some famous stars waited for years before they became stars.
Well, this little kitty is already a star! I just want to world to know.
Oh, Missy, I started to sing to her, Patience is a virtue very few possess . . .”
She looked up from her Backstage. Here’s something interesting! A new musical based on Cat Ballou! Would I be good for that?
I don’t know. Why don’t you give R.U. a call tomorrow?
I will!
Annabelle closed her Backstage. I set my new vocal score down and put the computer to sleep, It was time to clean up out breakfast dishes and get to work.
The next day, R.U. Fémos told Annabelle that the role of Cat Ballous was already cast, and that was the only cat in the musical. However, he thought she might be good for a Petco or Chewy commercial and he would send her the script.
Well, Annabelle stated to Thatch and me, I need to book this commercial, so, I need new headshots. I want someone good this time, not Thatch and my cell phone.
That was a good headshot! Thatch protested.
It was, Annabelle, I said to her.
Yes, it was, Thatch, but it’s not getting me any work. I must look for a new photographer.
She leaped off my bed and ran to the linen closet where she keeps her office. At the door, she turned back to us. Thatch! Stella! Come on. I need your help to prepare for this audition!
As two cats ran after Annabelle, I called, You haven’t even got the commercial copy yet!
After I watched my three little devils vanish into the closet, I turned back to my email. Most of it was stuff I deleted immediately, but just before I hit “delete” on one from BooksRUs, Looked at the subject “Your book has arrived.” What book? I thought. What did I order?
I went to my Amazon orders; nothing there. I then looked over my eBay purchases, but there was nothing from a BooksRUs. That meant Abebooks, and there it was: Thesaurus of Orchestra Devices by Gardner Read. I had ordered it two weeks ago. So, I went back to my email. All BooksRUs told me was “your book has been delivered” and the United States Postal Service tracking number. When I clicked on the number, the tracking history showed up. It had been delivered three days earlier. Only I never got it.
Now, I checked the mail every day. I took the dirty cat litter and any trash to the basement every morning before I stopped on the first floor to look for any packages and check for mail. There had been no delivery. Well,I thought, I’d better go look again. I rose from the computer chair, took my cane, and headed to the door. I took the walker and opened the front door, pushed it into the hall, and limpe3d down to the elevator.
No, there was no package, not a sign of it. However three packages sitting under the mailboxes were addressed to three other address, two on West 82nd Street and one on West 83rd. I opened my mailbox for Saturday afternoon’s mail delivery. A Con Ed bill, an ACLU membership request, and a letter for a lady living at 202 West 83rd Street!
Dammit! I muttered as I pushed the walker to the elevator. I guess my book is sitting in the mailroom of a building on postal carrier route 9, and I can do nothing about it. I can’t get into every building to check their mail rooms and I don’t even know how big route 9 might be. By the time the elevator opened on the third floor, I was really pissed. How can the US Post Office hire a sorter or carrier with either dyslexia or an inability to read?
I entered the apartment and slammed the door behind me. I put the walker in its place, picked up my cane hanging on the edge of the stove, and limped to my computer chair. By that time Annabelle, Thatch, and Stella had rushed out of the linen closet.
What’s going on? Annabelle asked.
What’s the buzz? Thatch sang. He and Annabelle laughed.
I am so angry at the USPostal Service! They no longer provide a phone number to contact them.
What will you do? Annabelle asked me.
I have to contact them through the computer, I will get an email apologizing, and I will never see the lost item.
What did they lose? Thatch asked. Then, to add to my misery, Stella and Thatch noisily danced as Thatch sang “What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s a happening” and Stella pounded her tambourine.
A book I ordered.
No loss, Annabelle stated. You have enough books.
I bristled. I wanted this book, Missy, and I paid good money for it.
It’s just money, Annabelle stated.
I paid a lot of money for it, Annabelle!
Speaking of money, I need new headshots, she replied before she joined the dance.
©2023, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 