The “Cats Against Trump” rally was a huge success for the cats and the pigeons. Annabelle, because she is a Manhattan Cat Celebrity, was interviewed by a cat from the Kitty Channel and that made her day.
You know, she told us, they could have asked me to speak today. I could have made my case for being the next White House cat.
I don’t want you to leave us for Kamala, I told her. Besides, she hasn’t won the election yet.
What do you think, Thatch? she asked him.
I think you will do whatever you want, Annabelle.
And, of course, you will come with me.
Sorry, Annabelle; I’m staying here with Daddy.
Well, I’ll write, she told us. Oh, here comes that interviewer again!
After several hours in the hot sun I was looking forward to getting my walker and aching body out of the crowd and back to the air conditioning. As soon as the car service arrived and I had shuffled three hyped-up kitties into the car, we headed back to the Upper West Side. To the relief of our driver, Oyster and Pebble opted to fly back. I was happy because I really didn’t want Access-a-Ride to ban me from future trips over a little pigeon poop.
During the ride, I leaned back in the seat and enjoyed the AC while Annabelle, Thatch, and Stella talked to each other in Cat. I noticed that at several times in the conversation Annabelle and Thatch gave me odd looks, but I didn’t want to start something in the car. Just get me home to collapse in my own bed, I thought.
As soon as we entered the apartment, I set the walker in its usual resting place while three cats tumbled past me into the apartment where they immediately ran to their water dish or their kibble.
I’m so thirsty! Annabelle enthused. All that shouting and cheering wore me out.
I wish I could vote! Thatch said to Stella, don’t you?
Stella struck her tambourine, then dropped it and ran to her kibble dish. I think she has to eat twice her body weight daily to survive. She’s very pretty, but she’s huge, almost twice the size of Annabelle or Thatch.
Well, I’m glad my babies had a good time, I told them as I removed my shoes before lying down on the bed. As soon as I settled into the pile of pillows, three cats leaped onto the bed.
Turn on the Kitty Channel! Annabelle ordered. I want to see if we make the news.
I picked up the remote and three cats ran to the foot of the bed to watch the screen.
Oh, look! Annabelle cooed. It’s my commercial!
Oh, good, I said. I wondered when they were going to air it.
You look good, Annabelle! Thatch told her.
I do, don’t I? I’ve never seen myself on film before.
Annabelle’s cat food commercial was handled by her agent/manager, R.U. Fémos, after she and Thatch had led to the arrest of the young scumbag who had been kidnapping puppies and kittens on the Upper West Side to feed his python. The publicity had led to her getting cast in an Irish Rep musical and several offers of work. The commercial had been difficult since she loathed and refused to work with the original children set to be in the commercial with her. To be fair to her, they were young, completely unprofessional, and she had suggested that, rather than be trained as performers, they be made into rugs. Luckily, the commercial sponsors loved her cheekiness, and R.U. Fémos adored her. The young children were paid off, two new children were brought in, and the commercial was finally made. That seemed years ago, so I was quite happy to see it finally air.
You look good, Annabelle! I cheered when the commercial ended.
I did, didn’t I? What did you think, Thatch?
I’m very happy for you, Annabelle!
Thank you. Now, will my interview make the news? What do you think?
And so the evening passed. The interview did make the news, and we watched a movie on the Kitty Channel; I slept through most of it. The day had been long, pushing that walker around Battery Park was exhausting, and I was quite worn out.
The next morning, after breakfast and the cleanup, I took the garbage and recyclables to the basement and then picked up Saturday’s mail. As I entered the apartment, I noticed the three cats huddled together. Stella said something in Cat, and Thatch and Annabelle burst into wild guffaws.
Hmmm, I thought, this is interesting. Insterad, I said maybe too enthusiastically, Well, babies, you seem to be having a good time!
Annabelle and Thatch looked at me for a long moment, looked at each other, and rolled onto their back in wild laughter.
What’s so funny? I asked. Did I do something?
No! Thatch hooted. Stella did!
What did Stella do?
She called you a Childless Cat Lady!
She called me a what?
You heard him, Annabelle sat up. She asked us if you – did you know she thinks you are her mother? – she asked how Mommy could be a childless cat lady since she had three babies!
I had to sit down. The logic of that comment demanded some serious thought.
Stella? Stella baby? I asked. How long have you thought I was your mommy?
Since she moved in! Annabelle said before she began to laugh again.
She’s always called you Mommy! Thatch added. Isn’t that funny?
You’ve never told me this before! I exclaimed.
And spoil our fun? Annabelle replied. We did tell her you were her Daddy, but the concept is beyond her.
My head hurts, I thought. I rose from my computer chair and headed for the kitchen. I needed to wrap my head around this one, and maybe more coffee would help. The cats followed me.
You know, I said as I put the water on to boil, I take the title of Childless Cat Lady as a great honor. I guess the candidate is too stupid to realize that there are Childless Cat Daddies as well, and I even know a wonderful Childless Dog Lady.
Is that Jen? Annabelle asked.
Yep, I replied. And she’s the best. I took my mug off the hook and emptied a packet of sweetener into it. Oscar is so lucky to have her for him mommy.
Well, when I am the White House Cat, Annabelle told us, I will insist that there be a National Childless Cat Lady Day.
Annabelle, I’m not sure I want my little girl to leave us for the White House.
I must do it! Are you sure you won’t come with me, Thatch?
I’m staying here with Mommy – he started to laugh – I mean Daddy.
How humiliating to be the butt of cat jokes, I thought.
I need to do this, Annabelle insisted. The nation needs me as the White House cat. I’m already a star, so the only plateau left for me is politics.
Really? I asked.
She has a point, Daddy, Thatch said. We already know she’ll never be a saint!
©2024, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 