“You’ll never guess what I found.”

I was watching Casablanca and really didn’t care what Mimi had found.

“Go on, guess.”

I don’t know how many times I’ve watched the movie. And I have no idea why I find it soothing to hear Bogart and Bergman say the same lines over and over.

“It’s not candles,” said Mimi. “And it’s not shoes.”

Paul Henreid doesn’t do much for me, but Claude Rains as Captain Louis Renault and Sydney Greenstreet as Signor Ferrari are terrific.

“A dog,” said Mimi. “I found you a dog.”

SO WE’RE IN PRAGUE, and as we walk back to our hotel, the fog rolls in. We hadn’t been expecting this. Before we know it, the city disappears, and we can barely see beyond our hands.

“When you’re lost in the woods, you’re supposed to stay where you are, so that the searchers can find you.”

“We’re not in the woods.”

“It’s the principle,” says Mimi.

“And there aren’t any searchers coming to find us.”

But Mimi’s point is well taken. If we try to battle the fog, we could really get lost. I don’t know if there are sketchy neighbourhoods in Prague, parts of the city that tourists are advised to avoid, but if there are, I don’t want to stumble into them by mistake.

“We could just stand here,” Mimi tells me, “and wait for the fog to lift.”

“That could be hours. We could be out here all night.”

Mimi steps in close and takes my hand. “I had an uncle who went to residential school. Blue Quills in St. Paul. Did I ever tell you that?”

“This the famous Uncle Leroy?”

“No, another uncle. Everett. One time, he ran away from the school with two other boys. They just started walking. Had no idea where they were. Didn’t know that Standoff was almost six hundred kilometres away.”

“Long walk.”

“Made it as far as Killam before they got caught. Said the fog was so thick, they had to hold hands to keep from getting lost. Just like tonight.”

“So, this is your excuse for us to hold hands.”

“Mum says they had a box of matches with them, but the matches got wet from the fog, and that was that.”

“Chanie Wenjack.”

“Sure,” says Mimi, “that’s the story everyone knows. Children running away from residential schools. But it’s not the only one.”

“What happened to Everett and the other boys?”

“They were taken back to Blue Quills,” says Mimi.

“So, they didn’t die?”

“No.”

“And that’s the end of the story?”

Mimi holds my hand a little tighter. “Those stories never end.”

THE DOG THAT MIMI takes out of the bag is about the size of a small pillow, with blond fur, floppy ears, and a sweet face.

“Her name is Muffy,” Mimi tells me. “And she loves you.”