King was the smartest dog I ever knew. The first time I met him, he was waiting for a bus at the stop across the street, on his own, relaxed, purposeful. King was a medium sized, reddish husky, a beautiful dog. He was in good shape, reasonably well groomed and all, so he must have had a home, although I never found out where it was.

The bus came along, and King hopped on, rode up two stops, and hopped off. Later I learned King did this every day. He must have been on a first name basis with the regular driver.

This was back in the 80s and I was living in a storefront painting studio on Ossington Ave. I had the studio fronting the street and Rob had the one facing the alley. There was a makeshift kitchen dividing the studios, and downstairs, a washroom and a tub and shower and some storage for paintings.

Ossington was not the neighbourhood it is today, peppered with trendy restaurants. It hadn’t even yet made the transition to Vietnamese karaoke joints which lined the lower section of the street as the 80s came to a close.

Rob had a dog, called Giotto, a lab-mix named after the father of the Renaissance. Rob worked during the day and I worked during the evening and Giotto hung out with whoever was around. At a certain point, King started calling on Giotto to go out and play. He would go up to Rob’s studio door and knock. We had a yard/parking area and a lane in the back and it was quiet and safe, even though it was close to Ossington, a busy street even then. They became fast friends.

One morning, the two of them disappeared. One minute they were there, wrestling, goofing around, and next minute they were gone. We looked everywhere. We walked the alley-ways, walked Ossington, walked Queen, looked into backyards and garages and sheds. They were gone. Disappeared. They were gone all morning and gone all afternoon and gone most most of the evening.

We thought they were done-for. We never should have let them run loose out back. But King was experienced at roaming the neighbourhood on his own, and he was looking after Giotto. At dusk, the two of them finally appeared out back, tired out but safe. Each of carried a giant bone of uncertain origin. We didn’t ask questions.