"Then there were the dogs. There were two dogs, both black labs living a half mile from each other, or which is to say, one on the corner of Ferndale and Garden City Way, and the other on the other end, almost at Number 4 Road. Both dogs were vicious and aggressive as well as untethered and unsupervised. That's right, guys. In order to negotiate a friendly neighbourhood block walk, almost every other day, I had to somehow get around a vicious black dog that would attack me if I turned my back on it. The owners were next to impossible to locate. I am very fortunate that I was never bitten. And neither of those dogs was about to make friends with me. Then, later on, after Doug moved in with me, a Doberman Pinscher was added to the place on Garden City. Very friendly and gentle as a pup, but then she matured and became every bit as vicious and frightening as her adoptive black lab mother.
"You could say that between my lovely next door neighbour, and the lovely neighbourhood doggies, that even very early in my tenancy, I was coming to feel under siege. Then there were the dead birds that would appear on the property. At first I wondered if they were the work of cats or raccoons, or whatever. But then I began taking a closer look. These just weren't random dead birds. They were the desiccated skins of birds, usually starlings, that had already been killed. Someone was placing them there, on the paths I had made in the back. I never encountered that person. I also found it interesting that, just before discovering any one of the desiccated bird carcasses, I would have a sense of siege, impending attack and doom, and I found myself going into deep and fervent prayer. Then I would go out into the back, and there was yet another dead bird, but just the dried skin, head, beak and nothing else. I knew something was afoot, something diabolical and vile..."
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