The Worst Hour Of My Life

On August 23rd, 2017, I experienced one of the worst hours of my entire life. That is not an exaggeration. Our house had been struck by lightning and was on fire. Black smoke filled the entire house as flames licked from under the eaves. And my cat was trapped inside.

At 2:54 pm, I was working in my office at home. It was towards the end of the “monsoon” season here in Tucson and there was a storm brewing. Lightning and thunder were sporadically going off, but that didn’t alarm me. I love storms. Just the night before, my boyfriend, Neal, and I had sat outside on the patio and watched an amazing lightning storm off in the mountains.

When the lightning hit, I’d never heard anything so loud in my life. My skin jumped from my body. It was so close! I thought it struck the backyard. The power was still on, my monitor had only flickered. I had a mini-panic attack from such a loud sound. I went into the living room and hunkered down on the floor with my dog, Jax, a German Shepherd rescue, who was just as scared as I was. I texted Neal or tried to. Only horribly misspelled gibberish came off my thumbs about lightning striking the backyard.

But I had been wrong at where it struck.

It was only about two minutes after the strike when I smelled it. The acrid stench of burning plastic and chemicals. I knew something was on fire. I ran around the house looking for smoke. I was going to put it out with my handy little fire extinguisher. I didn’t see any smoke anywhere. The odor smelled very electrical so I decided that it was the fuse box outside that was on fire. I debated whether I should take Jax outside with me. I am so very thankful that I did.

We went out through the back patio door and took about eight paces when a sound made me turn around. What I saw is burned into my memory.

From the patio, where Jax and I had come through only seconds before, a gigantic ball of rolling fire and black smoke exploded out into the backyard. My brain screamed, “We’d just come from there!”

I screamed also and pulled Jax to me. I looked up and saw flames coming out from under the eaves of the house and I’m sure I screamed again. Then my brain told me that Binx was in the house.

One of my greatest nightmares about my pets is that they die in a house fire.

I screamed her name and went towards the fire roaring off the patio. It was so hot, the smoke was so thick and it had a hint of chlorine in it. (We had chlorine tablets on the patio.) It hurt my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. I mentally went through all the openings of the house; I couldn’t get to her. Everything was locked.

Thankfully, I had my phone and dialed 911. I had to say my address three times because I was screaming at the operator. She couldn’t understand what I was saying. My cat is in the house! My house is on fire! My cat! My cat!

Poor Jax was cowering in the corner by the wall. I can’t imagine what his little mind was making of all of this. While I was on with 911, I heard the sirens in the distance. I left a little bit of relief.

My neighbor, who I’d not met yet because we’d moved into our brand new house only nineteen days before, came running to me. I’m very fuzzy on a lot of what she said to me or what I said to her, but I know I kept saying “my cat, my cat”. A sweet man had stopped on his way by and tried to get us to go into her house; he was afraid of the lightning storm which was still going on. And it was raining by that time, too. I asked him to call my boyfriend as he wasn’t answering my calls. So, Neal learned from a complete stranger that his house was on fire.

When the firefighters got there, I remember coming up to one of them just repeating “My cat, my cat” as I sobbed. They seemed to move in slow motion as I watched them. Why aren’t they moving faster?! Why aren’t they running?! My house is on fire! My cat!!

They broke through the front door and all I could see was thick, black smoke. A nice police officer kept moving me further and further back. I didn’t argue, I just cried and did what I was told, never taking my eyes off the house. Binx had been in there for so long, or it seemed so very long to me, and I was sure she was dead. On my knees on the sidewalk across from my house, I silently prayed that she please, please die of smoke inhalation and not, please, not burn to death.

I, and the dozens of people who came out to witness the spectacle, were pushed even further back. I was several houses away and my every attempt to sneak closer was met with a kind smile of the police officer and a polite “Ma’am, please stay back. They’ll get her.”

I don’t know how long it was. I was oblivious to everything around me. People came by to give me their sympathies, someone was holding my hand, and I know I spoke words to all of them, but I cannot remember what was said.

And then a flurry of activity was around the entrance to my house. A firefighter came out with something in his arms. Oh my god, is that Binx?! Is she alive?! I couldn’t tell from so far away.

Another one came out with the gray blanket from our bed. He gave it to a tall firefighter who took Binx from the man who had carried her out and was coming towards me.

Looking back, I kick myself for not having the presence of mind to take a picture. It was a real cover-of-Time-Magazine moment. The tall firefighter coming towards me in the rain, hugging something very tightly yet gently to his chest. But I didn’t see his face. My eyes were fixed on the gray blanket bundle in his arms.

I think he had said, “She’s okay.” I don’t remember his exact words but what he said made a flood of relief wash over me. I couldn’t see her within the blanket. He told me to keep a good hold on it because she’s a fighter. I remember smiling. That’s my girl.

He took me over to one of the vehicles and let me administer oxygen to her. She was very dazed, her eyes were huge and she was uncharacteristically compliant. I held her within the blanket on my lap with a tiny oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. It was only a few minutes when she decided she was done with it and wasn’t having any more of it. I knew then that she was truly fine.

After the fire was out and I sat in the back of the ambulance getting checked out (it felt weird to breathe deep and since I’d inhaled some chlorine gas, the policeman wanted me examined), I heard the story of how Binx put up a fight in the house.

I had told them where she would be hiding. But instead, she’d been running. She ran from them; they had a hard time seeing her in all the smoke – they just saw the smoke moving and grabbed. One got her and she sank her teeth into his glove. He dropped her and she went behind the sofa. After flinging it forward, one of them was able to snatch her up. Writing this now, a passage comes to mind: Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night. My girl wasn’t going down without a fight…even though they were trying to help her.

Fast-forward to the end of the evening–god, that had been a very long and painful afternoon–we were in a hotel room. I made her a bundle on the side of the bed by the wall. I snapped this photo. Her face told me she was all good.

It’s been many months since the fire, and we are all still in an apartment awaiting the re-build. Although the fire was contained in the attic thanks to the quick response of the awesome Green Valley firefighters, there was simply too much smoke damage not to demand a nearly entire gutting. (In my opinion, it would have been quicker and probably cheaper just to bulldoze the house down and rebuild it from scratch, but what do I know?)

We’ve discovered that both animals have a touch of PTSD. A commercial came on TV and smoke alarms were going off. Binx was gone like a shot under the bed and Jax cowered low, ears back, tail tucked, and came over to his daddy. It broke our hearts to see that.

I learned so many things through this experience but I’ll pass along to you only a few because this article is really long.

1) Stay calm when you are talking to 911. I know it’s hard to actually do but really try. If you are screaming, they can’t understand a word you say.

2) Make sure you have GOOD insurance. (We have Allstate and they are taking great care of us.)

3) Document ALL of your belongings, even if it’s just with a cell phone video.

4) Put a sticker on the front and back of your house indicating you have pets, what kind, and how many. We hadn’t put ours up yet. I shudder to think what would have happened if I’d not been home.