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“Sorry, Karl, sorry, my dear companion, do be patient with me. I have to finish this sentence, and then I will pay attention to you. I swear on my grave.”
But Karl wasn't in the mood to wait. The raccoon chattered, and tugged on Poe's cape with his claws, and finally climbed up Poe's chairr to hop onto his shoulder. He didn't do anything to hurt Poe, but he did everything he could to get his attention, poking him with his cold nose, headbutting him, pawing at his face, all to no avail. Poe was busy. He really was trying his hardest to be done as quickly as possible, knowing that if he did not finish writing this sentence, it would escape him forever. But Karl, being a raccoon, could never understand the nuances of writing. All he knew was that Poe wasn't paying attention to him. And so, when Poe lifted his head, as if to swat at him, Karl did what he seldom dared to do – he bit him on the finger and, before Poe could react, he hopped off his shoulder and ran out the door, sprinting down the stairs as fast as his paws could carry him.
Poe was more startled than hurt, and once he realised Poe had run away, his blood ran cold. He got up from his seat, leaving the manuscript tragically unfinished, and proceeded to almost trip down an entire flight of stairs. “Dear, oh dear. How did I let it happen again? Oh, Karl, please do forgive me! I need to learn, yes, learn that you are my top priority, my dear friend,” Poe muttered to himself, on the verge of tears. He reacted quickly, so Karl shouldn't be able to get too far away. Now, the question was, did he hide somewhere in the mansion? He considered that option and immediately decided that no, Karl wouldn't bother with something like that. He wanted to make a point. He definitely ran outside, like last time, and would wait for Poe to come and rescue him.
The fact the front door was open was, of course, yet another piece of evidence pointing towards that possibility. It must be noted, however, that Poe considered it even before he noticed the door.
He braced himself and ran out the door, looking around frantically. Karl could have gone anywhere. He would have to make a calculated decision here – which way should he go first? Where would he have gone if he was a lonely raccoon? Poe rubbed his temples and grimaced. Somehow, this was harder to figure out than many of the murder mysteries he dedicated his life to writing. Even the most refined killer and the most intelligent detective had one weakness, and it was that they had both come out of his head. Getting into their minds was truly just an exercise in looking deeper into his own mind. Karl, meanwhile... what might he be thinking? Poe couldn't even be sure Karl had any cognitive skills beyond searching for food when he was hungry. Oh, Karl! Karl!
Just when he was about to lament his helplessness with a loud, visceral scream of anguish, merciful fate deprived him of a long, futile search and the anxiety that would come with it. For Karl was right there, sitting a few feet away, next to a strange, kneeling man who, upon closer inspection, was not so strange after all. It was one of Poe's very own co-workers, John Steinbeck. He offered Karl something too small to see, and Karl accepted it happily. Poe's existential dread of losing his little friend was replaced by another – that of jealousy, his oldest companion. Poe approached the pair, his high-heeled boots clacking on the pavement. Alarmed, Karl hopped onto John's shoulder as he got up from his knees.
A pair of innocent blue eyes looked up at Poe. John tipped his hat. “Hullo! That's your little friend here, isn't it?”
Poe gulped. His hands were shaking, and he wasn't sure exactly what they were itching to do. He hid them behind his back, and forced his lips to twist into what he hoped looked like a friendly smile. “Good morning, John. Yes, that is indeed my Karl. He ran off just a minute ago. I suppose I should thank you for finding him.”
“I wouldn't call it finding,” John said, while Karl curled up around his neck like a fur collar. “Poor fella ran into me and fell over. I checked if he was all right and he squeaked at me like he wanted something. I figured he's hungry, so I got a grape and showed it to him. He snatched it right up and asked for more, so I gave him another.” He reached up to pet the raccoon's head as he spoke. Karl closed his eyes, perfectly content. “That's all I got to give him before you came to get him. If I can tell you one thing, he likes grapes. If you plant a grapevine somewhere in your place, he'll pluck them off himself. I reckon you'll find space for it somewhere.”
Poe gritted his teeth. “Hmm, yes, thank you, I will consider it.”
“I can even give you one of my seeds,” John offered, helpfully. “They grow fast.”
“No need, thank you,” Poe refused, putting his hands up in front of his chest. “I'm sorry to ask. Karl didn't bite your fingers when you fed him?”
“Hm? No.” John tilted his head and glanced at Karl. “He was very polite.”
“I see,” Poe whispered, his shoulders drooping. “I can never get him to not bite my fingers. I didn't know you had such a talent for handling animals,” he added, no longer whispering, with genuine curiosity. “Of course, I knew you had a green thumb... but I don't suppose it's a given that those two things go hand in hand.”
John hummed. “Why not? I'd think they do. It's all about taking care of another being, right? Whether it's a flower, or a dog, or a grapevine, or a cow. It all takes time and energy and patience. Humbles you to have something that depends on you,” he mused. “Back home, I had to watch the crops, but I also had to take care of my dog, and the cow and chickens. And also my little siblings,” he added with a chuckle. “It all goes together for me.”
A memory of many plants killed by literature-induced negligence flashed before Poe's eyes. “I see,” he said flatly. His jealousy grew, but it seemed to mutate. John's words, and the sight of Karl nearly falling asleep on his shoulders, gave Poe an idea. “If you and Karl get along so well, would you mind visiting me sometimes to play with him? I am often so busy with my projects, you see, that I don't have enough time to play with him the way I should. It is... regrettable.”
“Hm?” John's eyebrows rode up his forehead. “I dunno. I've never babysat a raccoon before.”
“I assure you that you would do well,” said Poe sweetly, folding his hands together. “And you would have access to my garden, too, of course. I'm afraid I neglected it as well. I'm sure you'd have plenty to do here. I trust that you would bring it back to its former glory.
John scratched his cheek. “That sounds like a lot of work... though it wouldn't be as tedious as some others,” he mused.
“And of course,” Poe added, extending his hand towards John, “I would pay you. Handsomely.”
“I guess,” John said, a smile dancing on his lips, “I can at least try, right?” He turned towards Karl. “What do you think, buddy?” he asked softly.
Poe wasn't sure where this plan would take him. But he had a feeling that, whatever happened, he would turn it in his favour in the end.