Is he crying again? Annabelle asked Thatch.
I don’t know, Annabelle; ask him.
All right. I will. She jumped onto the computer table and looked into my face from the top of the computer screen.
Are you crying again? she asked me.
No, Missy. Why? I asked.
What were those sounds you were making?
Sounds?
Those horrendous sounds you were making. Just a moment ago. I was rehearsing my commercial copy –
Yes, that’s coming up. Are you ready for it?
Don’t change the subject. Of course I’m ready. Well, I will be. It’s a week away.
I hope it goes better than the last one.
She bristled at that. I do not want to discuss that last audition! It should have gone better than it did.
I didn’t want to prolong any discussion about Annabelle’s last cat food commercial audition. Everything had gone well until they had brought in the two children who would be in the commercial with her. There was no rapport, and the children were completely unprofessional. Annabelle worked with them and the commercial’s director for around thirty minutes, while I dealt with the rather harsh opinions and feline criticism from the two stage mothers, before Annabelle stated to one and all that she would rather act with a turd from her litter box and that the two children should be made into rugs. Luckily, R.U. Fémos agreed with her, and the cat food company, who had already made one commercial with her, liked her spunk, so she has another audition next week.
Well, I don’t want you getting a bad reputation, I replied.
If you weren’t crying, Daddy, what was that sound you were making? Thatch asked me.
You broke my concentration! Annabelle stated. Some of this commercial copy is difficult.
Cat food commercial copy? Really, Annabelle? I teased her. Now, some of the medicine commercials have really hard copy, but “Keep me happy with Friskies” doesn’t sound difficult.
She bristled again. This is not a Friskies commercial.
At that moment, Stella leaped from the floor onto my lap. This was something new. She did not like being held, but lately she had been cozying up to me. If I lay down on the bed to watch television, she curled up beside me. When I sat at the computer, she sat on the floor next to me and butted my hand with her head. Other times, she leaped into my lap and refused to move.
She loves you, Daddy, Thatch had told me when I asked him what was going on with her.
She was such a strange little cat I was completely taken by surprise. I always felt that she marched to her own drummer, only relating to Thatch and Annabelle when the mood struck her. Since she only spoke Cat, I never knew what she was thinking.
Ah! I know what you heard, Annabelle! I told her. I was working on the ballet and Stella walked onto my score and lay down on it. I couldn’t move her, I didn’t want to wrinkle or tear the paper, and we had several tense moments.
I’ll be glad when you finish that ballet, she responded. You won’t let me be in it, and I do not like it taking your attention from me.
Annabelle! You can’t dance in it because you are not an Indiana University student. I’ve told you that.
I don’t believe you.
Don’t then, I replied before I turned my attention to Stella. Stella, Stella bella, Stella baby cat, you have to get off Daddy’s lap. He’s got things to do.
After a bit of nudging, Stella rose and leaped to the floor. Annabelle had moved to the front of the computer screen. She looked at the image for several minutes.
What is this? Thatch, do you know what it is?
I closed the window. It’s something you shouldn’t see yet, I told her.
What were you looking at? Annabelle asked. Tell me! Tell me!
Tell me! Thatch added.
Well, I just got Jeremy’s draft illustrations for my book about you and Thatch, I replied. They’re really, really good.
Oooh! Let me see!
Okay, just a second, Let me open the window again.
Annabelle jumped onto the computer table and put her face to the screen. I flipped through Jeremy’s PDF of twenty-three illustrations for chapters, title page, and end papers.
He’s certainly captured my beauty and grace, she said, and Thatch’s silliness, but-
Silliness? Thatch yelled. Let me see! He jumped onto the table and looked at the screen.
I look good! he said to Annabelle, but poor Daddy . . .
What, Thatch? I asked.
You are so right, Thatch! Poor Daddy!
What? What’s the matter? What’s the problem? I asked. Come on, you two, tell me!
Poor Daddy, Thatch said, we love Jeremy’s drawings of us, but you . . . you look so sad. What do you think, Annabelle?
Well, Thatch, it’s hard to draw dull.
©2023, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 