houseThere was a house fire in our neighborhood last night. The house went up in flames, a total loss. The family wasn’t home at the time. Their 3 dogs were rescued but their cat remains missing. The fire started around 5 pm. My husband smelled the smoke and we obviously heard all the sirens. He went out to investigate, came back home and reported “the house on the corner is on fire”.
While I didn’t really know the family, they had just moved in over the summer, from my walks around the neighborhood I knew they had animals. The cat would sit in the open windows like cats are prone to do and survey his new hood. The dogs would bark at the door when I walked by with my lab. My husband reported that” luckily no is home” which I answered with the standard “well, thank god for that, everyone is at least safe”. Then I remembered the animals. He had already left the house to go back to the scene of the fire. I ran after him to ask about the status of the animals. By this time a crowd of probably 25 neighbors had gathered to watch the blaze. I found one of the young girls who lived in the house meandering along the sidewalk among the smoke and transfixed neighbors. She confirmed that all 3 of their dogs were safe and being held in their car. As she and I watched the action of the fire fighters and police, neighbors returning home from work gathered and the crowd grew.
We are a fairly small neighborhood which implies familiarity but in actuality we’re a pretty isolated neighborhood. We’re a diverse neighborhood with a fair amount of Indians, who hang out with their fellow Indians. A fair amount of Asians, who hang out with their fellow Asians and the rest of us are a mix of black and white. As I ran back home to close the windows in my house from the thickening smoke, my Indian neighbor next door, who I have never really spoken with, asked about the fire. We quietly chatted and watched the flames shoot out of the roof over the fences of our adjoining backyards. The single woman on the other side of my house came out as well and the Indian and I filled her in on the story. The 3 of us now silently watched the blaze.
After closing the windows and making sure the now 6 dogs at my house were ok, we took in the families 3 dogs while the fire was being worked and we have 3 of our own, I headed back to the street to find my husband. By this time, the atmosphere was downright festive. Albeit in a macabre way. My son and a neighbor boy were working the scene taking pictures with their cell phones. The lights from the EMS vehicles and fire trucks created an almost strobe affect on the street as I watched now roughly 60 neighbors take in the action. As I watched the scene before me I took in the small groups of neighbors clustered relaying to each other what little information they had regarding how the fire started. Groups of whites, blacks, Indians and Asians. All together now taking in the neighborhood fire. The family members of the house on fire were given jackets to ward off the chill as the sun was now setting. They were offered water. I thought a stiff drink would have been more appropriate. A group of us fellow neighbors attempted to console one of the daughters in the family. Hugs were given, platitudes offered, a warm jacket provided. It occurred to me after, that I don’t even know that young girls name. I guess it doesn’t really matter.
After a time the crowd started to thin. Neighbors left to go make their dinners, to put small kids to bed, to make phone calls to friends and family and regale them with the story. My husband came home to check our smoke detectors and GFI loads on our outlets. He says it was an electrical fire. He could tell by the smell of the smoke.
We have now 5 dogs, the family did take the smallest, a min pin, with them to a hotel for the night. They said they will pick up the other 2 in the morning. After they find an extended stay for all of them. We of course told them to not worry about the dogs. When you have 3 already, really what’s 2 more? I told them we would keep our eye out for Moonshine (the missing cat). Maybe he got out when the firefighters were breaking windows. I really hope. They informed us that Moonshine is an indoor cat only. He’s never been outside. They weren’t hopeful that he would venture out even in the face of impending death. After they left, my husband said to me that he didn’t even think to ask their names. He asked me if I knew their names. I said no. I never asked.
In the light of a sunshiny crisp fall morning the sun shines on the charred remains of the house on the corner. When I took my kids to school this morning there were already a few neighbors out looking at the house over their morning cups of coffee. I noticed an elderly Asian woman and a young Indian mother talking together and gesturing at the house. I smiled to myself. Feeling guilty for feeling grateful that the house on the corner burned. I’m sorry for the displaced family but I hope that through this shared experience a bond may have formed in our isolated neighborhood and perhaps we will begin to learn each other’s names.
