I found Ray sitting outside of a Williams coffee pub in downtown Kitchener. He was with a group of friends, when I asked him about his life story, a girl with florescent pink hair told me it was far too long and miserable to listen to. Though Ray was not comfortable going into depth about his whole life story, he did answer a lot of other questions I had for him.
"Tell me about the happiest day of your life." I said
It was when he was in Las Vegas with some friends, he was gambling in a casino and won fourty-five hundred.
"Damn that felt good!" He said through a chuckle.
"And what was the saddest day of your life if you are comfortable telling me."
"Boy, oh boy." He stumbled upon this one for a while.
"Being homeless is always sad but the saddest day-- here, I'll show you."
Ray reached into his beaten up old bag and pulled out a photograph.
"The saddest day of my life is when she died."
It was a crumpled and torn picture of a Rottweiler all covered in snow.
"Her name was Sabrina and sure enough she was a witch." He winked.
"She was about five and a half when she died of a disease commonly known to her breed; bacteria began to eat away at her from the inside out. I couldn't stand to see her in all that pain, the day I put her down was the hardest day for me." He carefully placed the photograph into the front pocket of his backpack.
"What about the scariest day?" I asked him.
"I was seventeen and I woke up to a rifle pointing right into my temple and six police men surrounding my bed. Turns out my parents had called the cops on me."
"Why did your parents call the police on you?"
"I'd rather not get into that, I got into a bit of trouble with the law."
Ray was a very optimistic and open man, he wasn't embarrassed of who he was or his past, that is what I loved most about him.
