Dawn over Lake Ontario was giving the CN Tower a long shadow. November 16th would be cloudless.

The Greyhound bus left the highway and twisted around toward the Discovery District’s cluster of hospitals, hitting each red light on University Avenue and letting me wait anxiously. My baseline human senses were giving me nothing out of the ordinary, even as the bus turned on Edward Street and slowed down, gliding into the Coach Terminal.

Touchdown. I got up with my backpack on and the sunglass case stuffed in my pocket.

Like Neil Armstrong I set one foot down on the pavement as I left the bus.

(and here we go)

If that set any wheels in motion, I didn’t notice at once. I went to get my luggage from the bottom of the bus. The early morning travelers were slow and tortuously patient with each other. Pigeons bobbed their heads underfoot, and I worked hard not to make eye contact with them.

But someone had come sniffing by the time my luggage was set outside by the attendant: a skinny young man and his guide dog, at least to human eyes. And that dog looked like a breed I had encountered in Quebec. Their eyes don’t light up during the day, but a sundog could still be a special kind of problem.

With false confidence I reached to get my bag anyway, feeling committed as I had been waiting so patiently before, the dog’s nose just five feet away, the eyes locked on me. The man holding the dog’s leash seemed oblivious, looking up and around with glasses suggested that he had nothing normal to see.

Then the dog lunged, trying to take my luggage away by the opposite strap. Its tail was tucked and it was whimpering, but it was baring its teeth and refusing to let go. The tutelary in the guise of a man who could barely see turned to me, his enthusiastic participation in Movember evident with a sharp black mustache. He was too-well dressed to appear homeless, so he wasn’t going to be shuffled along by anyone. As to his source of power: I was gradually recalling that Movember had something serious behind it.

“Sorry, I think he smells some dried meat,” I said, because I had to say something.

“Huh? Off, off! Sorry man.” A hard yank pulled the sundog off my luggage, which was only a little ragged and slimed.

“Have a good day,” I said, turning to leave, and that’s when the dog sprang for my calves. The tutelary still seemed embarrassed, still trying to control the whining dog as I swept it away with my luggage in a light strike … but suddenly they both stopped, locked in position like a statue. The Movember man and his sundog were frozen in a posture that I don’t think anyone can freeze in without falling over, and then they both backed off, the tutelary’s glasses falling aside to reveal two normal blue eyes as he tried to stare harder at me.

I spun around and walked out of the terminal toward the St. Patrick Metro Station (less than 200 meters away, closer than most of the landmarks I’d highlighted as hazardous). As I walked I remembered Clemenza’s words: don’t walk, don’t run, don’t look anyone in the eye, don’t look away either …

I stopped to let a taxi go by like a normal pedestrian on the first street corner, then looked back quickly. The man and his dog were not following me. But they could be making some calls.

I was very close to the stairs going underground, just waiting to cross University Avenue, when that damn sundog came running up behind me from the last two blocks I had walked, caring nothing for taxis and the trickle of pedestrian traffic, bumping one old man to make him spill his coffee on his pants. I looked back with half a smile, still trying to act innocent and unclear about it wanting me in particular.

(you are TIRED of sneaking and playing nice)

The dog’s leash trailed on the sidewalk behind it as it closed the distance, the Movember man tutelary running far too slow to catch up, but of course they would, and now this couldn’t be passed off as a dog smelling some meat.

(I know you can be ruthless you gave it a good try with those two assassins but truth is I’m ALSO tired to sneaking and playing nice with you)

And just as the sundog closed the last few steps to make another lunge, this time to my throat, I blacked out.