The Little Black Book

I poured myself fresh coffee and gazed out of my second story window at the park across the street. Usually by this time of the morning the park would be full. Since the pandemic, there were fewer people out and about. I jumped at a knock on my door. I opened it to find Oscar, my neighbor from across the hall. He was holding Monte, his small scruffy rescue dog. “Sorry to bother you so early, Lis,” he said, “but something came up and I need to leave town. I can’t take Monte where I’m going so I wondered if you could keep him.”“Of course,” I said. Oscar was the best kind of neighbor to have. I’d been invited to a number of his gourmet dinner parties and was amazed he wasn’t a chef instead of a travel writer. His small circle of artistic friends inspired my own secret love of writing. He was kind and dependable. Besides, I’d fallen in love with Monte and who could say no to two sets of soulful brown eyes? “I could be gone a couple of weeks,” he said, raising his bushy gray eyebrows. I didn’t flinch. “That’s fine.” Monte was a house guest previously, and I always enjoyed him. Having company while social distancing would be a blessing. Oscar flashed contagious smile as he handed me Monte. I was met with lots of wet kisses that made me laugh. Oscar went back to his apartment and returned with a hefty bag of dog food and a canvas book bag brimming with dog toys and set them inside my door. “Goodbye buddy,” he whispered affectionately to Monte. “You’re in good hands.” We watched him walk slowly down the hall in an oversized blue jacket and jeans. He paused briefly to turn and wave goodbye. I wondered what secret location he was off to now. Would I be reading a magazine article about some exotic resort or a small remote fishing village? If he couldn’t bring Monte, it had to be somewhere dangerous. We ducked back into my apartment. “Best you’re here with me,” I said while filling his water and food dishes. “I would hate to hear a Python swallowed you!” I checked my phone and had five email notifications, all bills. My small gift and book shop was temporarily closed. I was depending on my modest savings which would be depleted soon. As I stressed, Monte pulled the canvas bag across the floor and dropped it at my feet. In spite of my gloom, I had to laugh. I sat down and tipped the bag over. A bone, a fleece blanket, squeaky toys, a Kong and small jar of peanut butter tumbled out. “We may need to share this,” I quipped holding up the jar. But Monte wasn’t interested. He searched through the pile and grabbed a small black notebook between his teeth and held it up to me. “It’s a good thing it’s sturdy!” I told him. It looked a lot like the notebooks Oscar pulled out of his pocket and used to jot things down. I suspected he used it as a record for Monte’s visits to the Vet, his routine, allergies, or appointments. To my surprise I found an intricate collection of drawings, mazes, short anecdotes, descriptions and lists of words and places. Every page was filled. I recognized Monte, identified as M, in numerous sketches with musings about fire hydrants and the quality of dog biscuits on the moon from Monte himself. I was drawn into a magical tale of a little dog’s fantastical adventures through space and time. The notebook was small, but it was like opening another universe. I couldn’t imagine Oscar intended to leave it behind. I was reluctant to put it down, but two hours had gone by and I needed to work on my business plan. That night the magical stories throughout the little black book wove through my dreams. Monte and I met a dazzling unicorn who flew us across rainbows and up into the Milky Way. Before heading back to Earth, we had cocoa and frosted cupcakes with polite pink mice on the moon who explained the importance of taking exactly 100 steps to anywhere. I woke up with my imagination on fire. Before I even had coffee, I jotted down notes on ways to enhance my webpage with photos of the unique gifts and books in my store. Every day that week I would linger with tales of intrigue conjured up by the illustrations and words in the little black book. My dreams brought them to life and Monte and I were on incredulous journeys to other worlds. I felt like a child again, the world a place of never-ending wonder. Before long I discovered that the golden rule was central to the lives of Monte and Oscar; treat others as you yourself want to be treated, at your best and at your worst. I found myself wanting to be a better person. At the end of the second week, I got an email from Oscar that read "Oscar’s on his way home. This journey will be the most incredible." I didn’t think much of it, after all I'd been reading the little black journal which was all incredible. I turned to Monte and said, “I guess our party’s coming to an end, buddy.” I sent a photo of Monte with a new toy and posted it on my webpage, too. On Monday morning I packed a bottle of water, several dog biscuits and poop bags in preparation for a long walk through the park and down the boulevard. Monte watched me with anticipation. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Ah, I thought, time’s up and realized how much I’d miss my friend and new muse, Monte. I took my time. But it wasn’t Oscar at the door. In front of me stood an elderly woman with the same soulful brown eyes. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Olivia Casey and I’m here on behalf of my brother, Oscar.” Of course, I thought. She resembled him only her features were soft and delicate. Monte recognized her and immediately jumped up on Olivia, barking and wagging his tail. She picked him up and petted his head with a leather gloved hand. “Please come in,” I said as I opened the door wider and ushered her into a seat on the worn couch. “I can have Monte’s things ready in a minute. I got Oscar’s email and I should have things together already…” “Actually, I was the one who sent the email,” she interrupted. “That’s why I’m here.” I sat down next to her, confused. Her face saddened. “Oscar has spent the last two weeks in hospice. He didn't want anyone to know.” “Oh no,” I gasped. “I had no idea.” There was an awkward silence. “Oscar was ill for some time,” she said softly. “Know grateful he was you took Monte in. He wanted him to be where he was loved. He also needed someone to carry on the mission.” “Mission?” I searched my memory for any mention of a mission in the little black book. Near the end was the quote by Richard Bach: “Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: If you’re alive, it isn’t.” My face betrayed my bewilderment. “I’ll try to explain,” Olivia said. Her eyes fell on the little black book on the coffee table. She laughed as she reached for it. “Oliver carried a notebook like this with him for 30 years. He called them magic makers," she said. Their mission was to become a story about him and Monte, or I should say 'Monsieur Monte and Mike.'” I was stunned. 'Monsieur Monte and Mike' were my favorite books as a child. Once I’d even written a letter to Monte telling him I wanted him to visit my tree house. I was sure if he stayed with me my parents would let us sleep in it. Why hadn’t I figured out the connection? “Oscar was known as Mike when he was a kid,” Olivia continued. “He preferred privacy and avoided public attention, so he used Oscar for writing about travel and O.M. Casey for his children’s books.” I nodded. “Your Monte is actually the third Monte, all equally adventurous and clever.” Monte had been jumping between our laps and finally settled comfortably in mine. My Monte, she had said, her eyes twinkling. “If you liked the rough draft,” she said, “You may enjoy this.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a children’s book and handed it to me. A colorful collage of stars, unicorns, rainbows, planets and of course Monsieur Monte and Mike graced the cover with the title, 'Across the Universe'. Tears came to my eyes as I leafed through it. Illustrations and words from the little black book were brought to life with brilliant and colorful illustrations. I felt like I was back in my dreams. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, deeply moved. My mind and emotions were reeling. Monte licked my face. We visited for a while and when Olivia got up to leave, she reached into her handbag and handed me a cashier's check for $20,000. I gasped and then protested. “It’s what Oscar wanted, for you and Monte. If you ever need anything, let me know.” “Thank you,” I said. Oscar had already given me so much with the little black book and an amazing friend named Monte. She stood up and headed for the door. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she smiled. “You are welcome to introduce this book on your website. I’ll make sure ample copies are shipped to you. Your copy is the only one he signed." “I’ll always treasure it,” I promised. That night I dug through my closet for the box that held all of my old 'Monsieur Monte and Mike' books. I had saved them all of these years. I was once again exploring Antarctica, Egypt, or the Rocky Mountains, canoeing in Alaska and backpacking in the outback. They took children all around the world. I couldn’t help but wonder what treasures their little black books held.

His newest and last book, the one from Olivia, was Oscar’s goodbye. I sat down and read it again, tears in my eyes as it became obvious Oscar knew it was his final journey and he was sharing his version of the wonder and magic of it all. He embarked into the unknown with hope and courage that spanned the universe. Everything was a welcome adventure.

On the last page Oscar was waving goodbye as he rode on the unicorn up into the stars and Monsieur Mike stood watching him with a young girl at his side. Tears streamed down my face.

When I pressed the book against my heart, an aged envelope fell from under the dust cover. The awkwardly written address to Monsieur Monte was vaguely familiar. It was my letter to Monte from years ago. It seemed silly but so sincere. There was also a letter from Mike to me saying that Monte was very ill and might not make any more journeys. Perhaps there would be another dog but never another Monte. He never mailed it. Scribbled underneath his old signature was a more recent note: 'There were other amazing Montes and now there needs to be another Mike or perhaps Lisa.' I picked up the little black book, where it all started, and studied the sketch of me and Monte on the last page. I wasn’t a little girl anymore, but that didn’t matter. His last words, on the inside back cover read, “Note to self, buy little black book.”