Really?
Yes, Daddy! It’s true.
Are you sure you heard what she said?
Yes. Annabelle is dropping her musical. She wants to write another.
Thatch had been whispering to me while I cleaned the litter box, and this news astonished me. He and Annabelle had been working on a musical for over four years, although I hadn’t seen them working on it much since the pandemic ended.
Do you know why?
She can’t get a song writer to join us. Or a director.
Well, Thatch, I said tentatively, how do you feel about this? You’re her writing partner.
I’m sad.
I’m so sorry, baby.
It was a lot of fun, but . . . she was frustrated that Irving Berlin wouldn’t answer her letters. She really wanted him to write the score.
Well, I never told her, Thatch, but Irving Berlin has died.
No! Why didn’t you tell her?
She never listens to me!
I know . . . and Jerome Robbins was her choice to direct it. He’s never answered her letters either!
He’s dead, too, Thatch.
No! Really? Can you recommend anybody?
For song writer or director?
Both, Daddy.
Well. I’ll think about it. I promise. My friend Curtis Moore might be a good song writer for her.
Is he a relative?
No, just a very good friend.
Oooh! Do you think he would be interested?
I can ask. He works with a good lyricist. I noticed you and Annabelle hadn’t been working on it lately.
She got frustrated over the music, and then she started finding reasons to avoid it.
I was afraid of that.
it was fun, though . . . I hope this new show will be fun, too.
Do you know what it is?
Sorta.
Hold on, Thatch! I’ve got to finish this litter.
I poured the dirty litter into the trash bag and tied it off. Then I assembled the litter filter and trays. I put the cover onto the litter box and pushed it backing place in the corner of the bathroom wall.
Okay, Thatch. Let’s get out of here. This room is too warm.
I dragged myself to my feet, looped the trash bag over the bathroom doorknob, grabbed my cane, and headed for the door. Thatch walked beside me. I took the trash bag off the doorknob and dropped it into the large garbage bag hanging on my walker. That would go down to the basement later with yesterday’s trash and recyclables.
Annabelle! I called. Where are you, Missy?
In the window with Stella! she called back.
I looked across the room. Yep, she and Stella were visiting with the pigeons on the windowsill.
Well, Thatch, I asked, why aren’t you visiting with them?
It’s Father’s Day, Daddy. I’m spending it with you.
Aw, baby, that’s so sweet. I’m happy for your company. Wanna help me make the bed?
Yes!
He ran to the bed, jumped onto it, and lay down in the middle of it.
This will be hell, I thought. I can either work around him or join him. So, I leaped onto the bed, curled up beside him, and fell asleep.
Later that night, while Thatch. Stella, and I were watching a movie, Annabelle walked up on my chest. I was lying down with my back and head propped up with pillows. She immediately began kneading my tummy.
Making biscuits, Missy? I asked her.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy! she said. She stopped her pulling and tugging and climbed onto my chest where she settled, gazing into my eyes. I ran my hands down her back and scratched her ear.
We have quite an understanding, Missy, I told her.
I love you, Daddy, she replied.
At that moment, my eyes filled with tears, my body shook, a huge painful lump of something – fear? love? – struggled for release. It was as if a hand had reached down my throat and torn out my heart. Oh, God, I thought, dear God, how I love these babies!
Are you crying again? Annabelle asked. She rose up.
No, it’s these allergies, I told her.
After a long, quizzical look, she settled back down on my chest.
What are you watching? she asked.
The Cat from Outer Space! Thatch cried. It’s so good. I love it!
Thatch tells me you’re working on a new musical, Annabelle, I said.
I’m stuck with the other one! Irving Berlin won’t answer my letters, and Jerry Herman’s just as bad. I can’t continue until I’ve got a good songwriter involved.
I’m sorry, baby.
So, I’ve decided to put it on hold for the moment. I’ve got this great new idea! I will play The Unsinkable Jenny!
Who’s Jenny? I sang, Never heard if Jenny. Thatch joined me on “Her equal would be hard to find.”
Well, I will tell you. Jenny was the cat on the Titanic in 1912. It’s a perfect role for me, and R.U. Fémos thinks so, too.
I was intrigued. Really, Annabelle? There was a cat on the Titanic?
There were several cats, actually, and dogs, and livestock going to America. The cats were treated very well since they were necessary to keep the rodent population down. Jenny and her babies had a nice spot in the kitchen, where she was very very well treated.
Her babies? I asked.
Yes, indeed! Jenny and her husband were on another ship owned by the Titanic’s management, and they were cruelly separated when management took Jenny off that ship to be on the Titanic. I remember! The other ship was the Olympic.
So, what happened?
She got on board the new ship, and you know, she must have been broken-heated to lose her true love – That’s going to be my big number to close Act One! – and a week later, while the shop was still in Belfast – that’s in Ireland, I think? – she had her babies on the Titanic.
How many? Thatch asked her.
I don’t know. I think I’ll have maybe four in the show. I mean, I’m the star, and this is not The Sound of Music.
So, go on, Annabelle, I urged. I’m curious.
So, Jenny had this nice warm spot in the kitchen for her and her babies, and she had an admirer, like Val, who took care of her.
Really?
Of course! His name was Joe – I cannot pronounce his last name. You’ll have to help me with that.
Okay, I said, I’ll do that. Just tell me where to find it.
On Google, silly! Just Google “Jenny Titanic Cat.” You’ll find him. He was Irish. Handsome boy. Jenny saved his life, too.
How did Jenny save hers? I asked.
Well, the ship was in Belfast and then it moved to Southampton to board the passengers. Just before the ship reached England, Jenny had a vision. She saw the Titanic sinking, passengers panicking, animals screaming in fear, and she knew she’d better get herself and her babies off that ship.
That’s amazing! I said.
It is, isn’t it? So . . . one by one, Jenny carried her babies off the ship, walking past the passengers lined up to board. She found a safe place close to the dock to leave them, and then she went back for another. Remember Joe, the crew member who was good to Jenny? He saw what she was doing, and decided that was an omen. He went to his room, packed his things, and quit. He later wrote about Jenny in his memoirs. You see, Jenny saved his life.
I may have a songwriter for you, I said, my friend Curtis.
Is he as good as Irving Berlin or Jerry Herman?
He’s awfully good.
Isn’t Jenny a wonderful character? It’s a perfect role for me!
Thatch applauded. I cannot wait to see you in this!
Well, Thatch, I have to write it first.
©2023, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 