I was out with friends recently and found myself recounting a phone call I’d gotten many years ago. Here’s the text as I recorded it shortly after the call. I used it as the first scene of my 2nd , unpublished, novel. My friend Amy suggested I rework it as a short, New Yorker-type story and I just may do that.
Stella was sitting on the front porch watching the afternoon traffic pass by when I got the call on my business line. It was the call I always knew would come.
“Hello. May I speak with Stella, please?” she said.
“Sure. May I say who’s calling?”
“I’m looking for Stella Woronoff. W-O-R-O-N-O-F-F,” she said.
“I’m Bonnie Woronoff,” I said. “May I ask who’s calling please?”
“Dunn and Bradstreet has business with Stella,” she said. I thought her reply a bit haughty.
“You have business with Stella? May I ask what kind of business?”
That caused a slight chink in her armor. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It doesn’t say here.”
“But you're sure you have business with her?” I said.
“Yes,” she replied, “it says something here about Stella Bear.”
“Stellabear.com,” I said. “It’s a website. You have business with Stella regarding stellabear.com?”
“Yes.”
“And you've done business with Stella of stellabear.com in the past?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that's very interesting,” I said. “I didn't know she was working with Dun and Bradstreet. Hang on. I'll get her.”
I paused a moment, debating….
“There is one thing I think you should know,” I said. “Stella’s a dog. She’s a big beautiful Newfoundland dog.”
“Oh,” the woman said, though she was dumbstruck only momentarily. “Is she famous?”
I was impressed by the nimbleness of her response. Then I realized the woman was entirely serious.
“Famous?” I said, “What do you mean? She's pretty popular in the neighborhood, but I wouldn't say famous.”
“Is she famous like Morris-the-Cat or Lassie?”
“No, she’s not famous,” I said. Then a thought occurred to me. “Why? Do you have connections? I think she should be famous.”
“Uh, no,” the woman replied sounding neverous. As if I were stalking her.
“Let me just update her file,” the woman said.
Damn, I thought. I’d frightened her.
“Is there an option in the file for ‘dog’?” I asked. As a developer of business systems, I was curious.
The woman then cited my address in Lexington, MA. “Is that correct?” she asked.
“That’s where I live,” I agreed. “Stella has a small apartment out back.” I admit it. At that point, I was just messing with her.
“Huh?” the woman said.
“Her doghouse….”
The woman quickly thanked me for my time. I thanked her for calling. When I finished laughing, I joined Stella on the front porch. She wasn't interested in the story, but she rolled onto her back and let me rub her belly.
