FICTION 

-  -   -   -  tracking sounds in the dark house.      
                                       Photo by Weebly.com                                    

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Ms Noir and the Night Caller
A Shaggy Dog Story
by  Ed Brownson

​Ms Noir’s right ear shot into an upright cone, rotating left to right, right to left, tracking sounds in the dark house. Something, she surmised, is afoot. She listened a minute longer. Her rotating ear triangulated the noise to the kitchen. It sounded like someone was helping themselves to her dogfood, or maybe her human’s stash of chocolate chip cookies.
 
Ms Noir looked across the bed at her human. Masie was making that odd gruffing noise she did when sleeping, muttering sounds that made even less sense than the ones she made when she was awake.
 
Which meant that it was up to Ms Noir to handle whoever was doing the munching.
 
Just as well, she decided. If there is an intruder and Masie gets involved, much hysteria and shrieking will ensue. Ms Noir didn’t feel like dealing with that. She dearly loved her human, but the woman had her moments.
 
Hopping off the bed, she stretched into a downward dog then padded into the kitchen. The night wasn’t cold, so Masie’d left the backdoor to the yard cracked open in case Ms Noir required the facilities.
 
On the counter was a raccoon with its back to her. He had pulled the top off Ms Noir’s kibble bin and was scooping out paws full of fake buffalo bits, munching as if they were potato chips.
 
Always polite, Ms Noir stood in the doorway and cleared her throat. The raccoon stopped munching but did not turn around.
 
“Excuse me,” said Ms Noir. “I believe you are eating my food?”
 
The raccoon jumped up one and a half feet, performed a mid-air pirouette, and landed back on the counter on his rear feet, facing the black Labrador.
 
“Uh-oh,” the raccoon mumbled, a sheepish look on his face. “Busted.” 

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​They stared at each other, neither moving. Finally Ms Noir spoke. “May I ask what you’re doing in my kitchen?”
 
The raccoon held up a pawful of kibble. “Uh, snacking? Duh?”
 
“There is no need to be rude,” Ms Noir said. “Especially as you are in my house eating my food.”
 
“Which some human bought for you,” the raccoon pointed out. “Some four-paws have all the luck.”
 
“Oh, it isn’t luck, I assure you,” said Ms Noir. “It is work. The care and maintenance that goes into keeping a human . . .” She shook her head. “It requires a certain . . . temperament. One, if I am not mistaken, raccoons lack?”
 
The invader nodded. “Yeah. How you put up with them I’ll never know. What’s your name?”
 
“My human calls me Ms Noir. My Canine name is Grrrowwiilllleruff.”
 
“I’ll go with Ms Noir,” the raccoon said. “Never could get the hang of Canine. I’m Eeeeeeeeeeeemoowwiklu, but you can give me a nickname if it’s easier.”
 
Ms Noir held up a paw while she considered the idea. “I’ll call you Doordash then. It seems fitting for your, er, skills. If that’s ok?”
 
The raccoon nodded. “Works for me. I’ve certainly dashed through a lot of doors in my day.”
 
Ms Noir, still groggy from the hour, sat down in the doorway. “So, Doordash. Why are you here? Besides the obvious, I mean,” she said, pointing her nose at the kibble.
 
“Pickings are slim, lately,” Doordash said. “The darn humans have taken to locking up their garbage.”
 
“I can see how that might be a problem,” replied Ms Noir.

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​“This block used to be a veritable orgy of feasts,” Doordash continued. “Three doors down, those people are serious eaters. Meat, gravy and potatoes . . . even pies for dessert. Every night! And next to them, vegetarians, which I personally prefer. They feast on nuts and carrots and all sorts of luscious greens . . . Their butter squash with garlic is to die for. And oh, the takeout . . .!” Doordash’s eyes glazed.
 
“Sounds wonderful,” Ms Noir agreed.
 
“It was! Perfect dining for the urban sophisticate. Then bang! Suddenly the humans are putting actual locks on their garbage cans! We raccoons have a well-earned rep for being clever, but we haven’t cracked the Masterlock yet.”
 
Doordash slumped on the counter, feet dangling over the edge, holding his head in his front paws. “Even the restaurants now act as if their garbage is too good to share,” he sighed. “It’s enough to make a trash panda long for the countryside.”
 
“I am so sorry,” Ms Noir said, her dark eyes misting. “They’re going through a rough patch, the humans. Worried about viruses and politics and things that as far as I can tell have no actual importance.”
 
“Humans, for you,” Doordash agreed. “They are fragile critters.” 
 
The two quadrupeds sat quietly for a few minutes. Doordash finally spoke.
 
“Well,” he said, “I guess you need to do your duty and run around the room barking, and chase me out.”
 
Ms Noir sighed. “That is in my job description. ‘Keep vermin out of the house.’” Realizing her faux pas, she quickly apologized. “No offense intended.”
 
“None taken,” Doordash chuckled. “Been called worse than that.”

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Ms Noir was relieved. “To answer your question, no, I think I’ll skip the drama for tonight. You help yourself to the kibble.”
 
“That’s very kind of you, Ms Noir.” Doordash didn’t go back to eating, however. Instead, he studied his companion. “You are an intriguing canine,” he said. “Definitely a step above the average poodle. Would you be interested in hanging out?”
 
Again, Ms Noir’s right ear shot up and rotated. “What ever do you mean?” she said.
 
“You know. Spend some time together? Might be fun.” Doordash winked.
 
“Going out with a raccoon. . .?” she considered, her ear still at attention. “I don’t usually date your kind. . .”
 
“Could be fun,” Doordash said. “That’s an amazing trick with your ear, by the way.”
 
Ms Noir blushed. “I once went out with a beguiling German Shepherd,” she said. She shot her ear back up into radar position. “He taught me this ear trick after a pleasant evening of, well, pleasantry.”
 
“Cool,” Doordash said. “I bet I can teach you a few things too.”
 
Ms Noir lifted her upper lip in a smile. “I bet you can,” she purred.
 
“Grand. Then it’s a date, then.”
 
“Yes. Only could we do it another night? My human will be up in a couple of hours and she’ll no doubt need her morning walk, and then it’s shopping day so I have to guard the car while she’s in the store, so . . .”
 
“No worries,” Doordash said. “When you’re in the mood, just leave the back door open. I’ll find you.”​ 

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“Excellent,” said Ms Noir. “Now I have to get back to bed or she’ll notice I’m missing.”
 
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms Noir,” Doordash said, bowing down to the floor, his hind paws firmly grasped to the counter’s edge.
 
“And you, Doordash. Finish your meal, and if you don’t mind, please put everything back where you found it. As long as the human doesn’t see a mess, she won’t cause any problems.”
 
Ms Noir pawed back to the bedroom. Her human was still making noises, now of a more sinister nature. Ms Noir jumped on the bed and snuggled close, knowing her presence would dispel any bad dreams and replace them with good ones.

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​Ed Brownson’s plays have been performed in California, New York and Italy, with many developmental and staged readings along the way. His latest, Tap, Tap Tap, about a woman confronting a horrible past, was selected for production as part of the Playwright Center of San Francisco’s Fall 2021 ‘Best of…’ series. He has studied playwriting at American Conservatory Theatre, Central Works Theater Company, Theater Artists’ Conspiracy and many informal venues. Recently, he has been working on essays and long and short fiction, ‘attending’ numerous pandemic-inspired Zoom classes and groups to help him along the way.

Other works in this issue:
Nonfiction:  
Ghost City
​Is That All There Is?  
In Praise of the Anthropomorph

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