A random spark from our wood stove destroyed our house in 1994. We all escaped — well, all of us except for the family cat, a foul-tempered feline that, true to its contrary nature, ran and hid in the mess and subsequently succumbed to smoke inhalation.
The outpouring of community support that came after was more overwhelming than was losing all our stuff, and I can’t say I’ve thought about that middle-of-the-night fire much since it happened, in the early ‘90s. I remember it was in April. I remember it made the papers.
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