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paper. A good guard walks around the property every hour. I am a good guard. I was on one of my rounds when I found you and those bad boys.”
    He pushed the large metal gate, and it opened with a long, loud groan. I stepped inside, and he closed the gate behind us.
    â€œSo you think I could stop and see the cats, right?” I asked. “I saved them a bit of my lunch.”
    â€œOf course.” He paused and then chuckled. “I saved them a bit of mine too,” he said quietly. He looked like a guilty little boy.
    He popped into his guardhouse and returned holding a paper bag.
    â€œI have a bit of my baloney sandwich. Do you think they like baloney?” I asked.
    â€œThey like everything! We have a saying: beggars cannot be choosers. Come, we will find the cats.”
    I followed as he led me through the yard. I tried to figure out the layout, but one row of wrecks looked like all the others.
    â€œTaylor, what grade are you in?” Mr. Singh asked.
    â€œGrade six.”
    â€œAnd do you have brothers and sisters?”
    â€œJust me. Do you have kids?” I asked.
    â€œI have four children, but they are older than you. Two of my children are in university and two are finished their schooling. My oldest son is a doctor, and my oldest daughter is a chartered accountant.”
    â€œThat’s great! You must be so proud of them.”
    â€œI am proud of all my children, such good children they are. My littlest girl is training to be a teacher— perhaps she will be your teacher some day. And my youngest, another boy, he wishes to follow in my path.”
    â€œHe wants to become a security guard?” I blurted out.
    â€œNo, no, no,” he said with a laugh. “He will become a lawyer. In Canada I am a security guard. In India I was a lawyer. I worked for a very big firm, very important.”
    â€œBut if you were a lawyer there, how come you aren’t a lawyer here?”
    â€œRules, rules and more rules. There are many people from other countries who cannot become qualified to practice their professions in this country. There are doctors from other countries driving taxi cabs in Canada.”
    â€œBut that doesn’t make any sense. We need doctors and lawyers.”
    â€œIt does not need to make sense, it simply is,” he said. “But in fairness, they told me before I immigrated I would probably not be able to practice law without going back to school. With a family to raise, there was not the money for that, so I am a proud soldier, a security guard.”
    â€œThat must have been hard to come here knowing you’d have to stop being a lawyer.”
    â€œIt was hard, but it was the right decision for my children and their futures. My oldest boy, my doctor son, wants me to stay at home and he will support me. I tell him that I am still the father, and if he needs money, he can come to me. I will give him some money!”
    Mr. Singh sounded so proud. “There were many things that were hard in coming here. I knew very little English,” he said.
    â€œYou speak so well now.”
    â€œI learned. There was so much new to learn, but the hardest adjustment was the weather. It is very cold in this country, and who knew winter could be so long!”
    â€œIt’s not nearly as cold here as where I come from.”
    â€œYou are not Canadian?” he asked.
    â€œI am, but I’m from a town up north. Up there, they have snow before Halloween and it stays until the end of March, or later.”
    â€œYou must be from the North Pole!” he said and started to laugh.
    â€œNot quite, but farther north than here,” I said.
    â€œThere is one good thing about a Sikh coming to this country. We come equipped for the cold,” he said, pointing up to his bright red turban. “I like to think of this as my Sikh tuque. At least my head is warm in the winter!”
    He smiled broadly, and I did too.
    â€œHow long have you been in