As we drove home from visiting friends in a nearby town on Sunday, we saw a
huge plume of smoke billowing above our town, and a steady stream of cars
coming from town.  And I thought, "NO.  This can't be happening.  Are the
animals ok?"
 
As soon as we topped the last hill, it was frighteningly obvious that here
was a big forest fire very close to town.  The police had blocked some
roads, and some areas of town had already been evacuated.
 
As soon as we got home, we were told to prepare to evacuate.
-Pack up the humans.  (What do you wear for an evacuation?  I have no idea
 what I threw in that duffel bag.)
-Answer the phone.  (Yes, mom, we're ok.  Will call later.)
-Get the dog leashes, bowls, and food.  (Where IS the collar with the
 rabies tag on it?)
-Answer the phone.  (Yes, concerned boss, we're ok.  Don't worry.)
-Calculate what the car will hold, besides a herd of ferets, three dogs, a
 cat, two rats, and some people.  (Answer = not much.)
-Answer the phone.  (I'm so glad you called--can you put up with me and my
 whole crew if we have to evacuate?)
-Realize that the ferrets can't go in the at carrier--the cat goes in that.
 (Select two small cages.  Worry about how one really isn't good for
 carrying.  Worry about how the other has a loose bottom.)
-Set up the cages with hammocks, litter pans, water, food.
-Answer the phone about a zillion more times.
-Round up the ferrets.  (Actually, half of 'em were already in the cages,
 checking it all out.)
-Change the message machine message and set it to answer all calls
 immediately.
-Stuff the cat in the carrier.
-Wonder what sort of papers are important to preserve from fire.
-Stuff papers in a box.  (Darned if I know whether the title to the car is
 as important as the house insurance policy or the photo album.)
 
And so on.  Then you flip through channels, hoping for more news and feel
angry that there isn't anything.  And feel nervous.  And try to do some
ordinary household tasks, but you're distracted and tired.  So are the
animals, and they really don't like being confined.  Eventually, you fall
asleep.  Next morning, no good news.  Everything is closed (except UPS,
so that Mother's Day gift will arrive on time, even if my house does burn
down.)  The whole neighborhood is outside, raking up and bagging pine
needles.  No mail delivery and no trash pick up, but the city sends around
crews all day long to haul off the bags of kindling-dry pine needles.
 
Tonight, the third day of public awareness of the fire (it started middle
of last week), the air indoors reeks of smoke.  The fire is still burning.
We may yet have to leave.  I've heard this is the driest year in a century
in my state, so this fire is hardly likely to be the only one before
September, when the summer lightning storms will stop.
 
When this particular fire is out, I will do two things.  (Actually, rather
more than that.  But two things that specifically concern ferrets.) First,
I will get enough carriers, extra litter pans, water bottles, and so forth
to be able to move my ferrets in a hurry without worrying about makeshift
transport cages.  Second, I will arrange with friends to try to make sure
that no one has to worry that their animals may be left behind.
 
It's something to think about.
 
Jacqueline
[Posted in FML issue 3047]