My mind was occupied with making my tight connection to Ottawa. I had just finished clearing Customs in Pearson Aiport (Toronto) following my flight from Germany and was standing by the baggage carousel waiting for my checked bag to spill off the conveyor belt. If you know Pearson well enough, you know that I would still have to hussle through several time zones to get to the domestic connection gates.

Customs officers seemed to be out in greater numbers than usual. Some were uniformed to the hilt, others looked more comfortable in their t-shirts. They milled about the crowds looking anything but threatening or concerned so I didn’t pay much attention to them. I was more focused on the sequence of events that would follow the appearance of my bag.

A few minutes passed when I was approached by an officer asking if I speak English. This officer was dressed to the hilt. However, she had accessorized her uniform with an over-the-shoulder pouch covered in flowers, an usual site for an officer of the law.

“Yes. I do”, I responded.

The officer explained that she was part of a group training sniffer dogs to pick up on scents and asked if I would be willing to help them out by pocketing one of their targets. She opened her flowered pouch so I could see a rectangle with a duct-taped exterior and explained that it was a bundle of shredded money.

STOP.

What’s going through your mind right now?

I considered the request. I was being asked to place something in my pocket for a police dog to identify. On one hand it seems like a set-up (a frightening one at that); on the other hand I’m being asked to help the police — a civic duty, if you like. I thought some more. My bag hadn’t arrived. In fact, the conveyor belt wasn’t even moving at this time. I scanned the area quickly and noticed that there were a lot of people in the area. One guy standing next to me, probably about my age, had taken notice of the conversation and was watching me consider my response. I thought about his role in this. A witness! If anything dishonoured me, he would be able to speak up on my behalf. Unless, of course, he was struck with one of those bouts of amnesia you hear about in the news sometimes.

“Will the dog tear off my arm?” I asked.

The officer laughed and reassured me that it wouldn’t and that she and several other officers would be standing nearby.

“Okay.”

I placed the duct-taped bundle of shredded money in the left outside pocket of my coat. The officer moved away so as not to distract the dog when it arrived and I continued waiting by the carousel and took up chatting with my new friend, the witness. After we joked about what I’d just gotten myself into, we talked about the travels from which we’d both just returned.

The dog hadn’t appeared yet and I started to think, again, about making my connection. What happened if my bag arrived and I had to bail on my civic duty?

Around the same time as the carousel started to roll, the witness and I noticed a Customs officer moving about the room with an energetic and young-looking Black Lab. It was cute to watch and as I watched I realized everyone else was noticing the same officer and dog. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen and only a few people knew that the dog was looking for me — and that I was a plant. For a fleeting moment I considered the relief it would be if the dog sat down next to someone else and my contribution would no longer be necessary.

The officer and the dog moved quickly through the room. When I first noticed them they were two carousels away. Now they were rounding the corner of my carousel. I watched only half-heartedly, spending some of my visual energy on the carousel so as not to look too conspicuous.

As the dog approached, I braced myself for the possible reaction of the large group of bystanders. The dog’s head and body moved energetically, almost frantically, as he scanned the bags and people. Some people watched with interest, others jerked their bodies in surprise. I decided that I was ready for him. Two people away… the witness… me… the next person over.

What? He completely passed me! Suddenly I found myself going from being anxious to being disappointed. In fact, I felt badly for the dog who was in the middle of his training.

I looked up and noticed the officer who had recruited me. She had an “oh no” look on her face as she shook her head. She called to the officer in control of the dog, asking him to move back about ten people and resume. As they walked past the officer with the pouch, the dog picked up the scent from the empty pouch and sat down. That’s when I remembered that smells like to hang around even after the source of the smell is long gone. What happens if similar training is going on elsewhere in Pearson, or in Ottawa, and a dog sniffs my empty pocket and has a seat next to me? What then? What happens if the next sniffing dog isn’t in training? How do I explain that?

The dog and his master moved back up the line a bit and resumed. The officer gave the dog more specific instructions for a few people and then let the dog work under its own command as they moved closer to me. Two people away… the witness… me… the dog sat down next to my left side. The officer put his arm up in the air and proudly exclaimed “Good dog!” and threw a Kong for the dog to chase. Everyone in the area cheered as the officer dropped to the ground to wrestle with the dog for a moment. Playtime. A reward. No treat, just a moment of feeling connected and appreciated.

It was a great feeling to be on the inside of this exercise and experience it with a bit of the adrenaline that comes with uncertainty and trust in others. I turned in the bundle of shredded money just as the witness and I joked that my reward would be to keep and reassemble the money for my own use.

My bag rolled off the carousel a few minutes later and I moved quickly to make my next flight without incident.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to get my coat dry cleaned.