It's been two weeks since the fire and some days I feel like I'm handling things okay, other days I feel like I'm still in shock. Like none of this can actually be real.
This whole year has been pretty terrible for me. I'm one of those millennials who still has to live with their parents because they can't find steady employment. I have a Master's degree and lots of experience in my field, amazing recommendations, all that jazz, but I've only been able to get temporary jobs and internships. This year I'd finally managed to get a fellowship that would've lasted an entire year and would've given me experience in digital media and communications, which would have been absolutely incredible. But then COVID happened and that fellowship fell through back in March. I also lost my job at the library at the same time, since I'd already quit in order to start this fellowship right before things got bad. So I was suddenly unemployed and had lost an incredible job opportunity and then started the whole terrible isolation of COVID. I have a long history of fighting with depression and anxiety, but don't really have any friends in the area and while I love my parents, they're not really very great at emotional support, so my cats have always really been the greatest support system I've had.
My special girl was Mimi. She was a beautiful long-haired calico, who definitely had some anxiety issues just like me. She was very scared of strangers and was very easily startled by loud noises and it took a LONG time for her to get used to people, but once she did, she was the sweetest, most affectionate sweetheart in the entire world. We got her as a kitten and she was around 15 this year. Then there was Jesse. He was the total opposite of Mimi. Super gregarious, super confident. He was only 2. We got him during the last "summer from hell" in 2018, when I lost my grandma, and then we had to put down my 15-year-old cat Safari when she got unexpectedly sick, then my 21-year-old cat Mandie because of old age. I got him the shelter and they said he was a domestic long hair, but my mom and I were watching a cat show documentary on Netflix one day and there was a cat there that looked and moved EXACTLY like him that they said was a Turkish Angora, so that's what I think he really was. He was so beautiful and smart. We also had two "barn" cats, Ari and Arsene. We had a two-story garage where I stored my books and lots of my other possessions and we had mice problems, so we adopted them through a barn cat program to help with the mice. Ari was pretty aloof and we didn't really see her all that often, but Arsene was a homebody; anytime you were outside for any reason, he'd be right there with you. He'd immediately curl in your lap when you sat down and if you were working on something outside, he'd be right there to "help out". We got our roof redone the week before the fire and I heard the workmen talking about how "awesome this cat is". We also got a kitten, Callie, after I lost my job, partly because of my depression, and partly because Jesse was driving Mimi insane. Since I was home all the time, they both wanted to be with me, and Mimi didn't like that Jesse was constantly invading her space and trying to play with her.
Anyway, my birthday was at the beginning of September, but I was sick with a really nasty sinus infection, and didn't actually feel okay to do any sort of celebration until near the end of the month. Even then, I really just wanted to use the free birthday burger coupon I got from Red Robin before it expired. I know it's totally ridiculous, but I feel like the fire is partly my fault because if I hadn't decided to go get burgers that day and if I hadn't said I'd rather eat inside than outside, then it probably wouldn't have happened. I have talked to my therapist about that all, though. I know it wasn't really my fault. My brain just wants to find someone to blame and I'd never blame my dad, because I know how much he blames himself already. He'd started a fire in the outside chimnea and thought it had burned itself out, so it'd be okay to go inside for a few minutes. But in those few minutes, the wind picked up and when we went outside the grass was on fire and then it spread so quickly to the garage. I think Arsene must have been somewhere inside the garage before the fire started and just couldn't get out. It completely burned down, so we didn't find his remains, but he wasn't the type who would've run away and no one could find him afterwards, even though everyone in the neighborhood was looking. The fire burned it down so quickly that I just hope he didn't suffer.
I didn't know about him at the time, though. We were panicking and trying to put the fire out or keep it from spreading to the house by spraying at it with the hose (literally as logical as trying to spit it out). I called 911 around this time. My mom was yelling at me to keep spraying the house with the hose and I can still clearly remember how hot it was even from that far away. A neighbor came over and said something about needing to move the cars and I think that managed to snap me out of trying to think we could contain the fire and I realized it would probably get to the house and I had to go and try to save the animals.
It's weird, because I remember the first part in total detail and I remember that while it was absolutely terrifying, my brain was totally calm at the time. I went inside the house and the dogs came up to me. I grabbed their leash, put it on them, and then chucked it outside where there were a bunch of people who could grab them. Then I ran into my brother's room, yelled at him to get out of the house right now, and made sure he was doing it. Then, I went upstairs to my room, went to my bed and grabbed my laptop--because whenever people asked the hypothetical question "what's the one thing you'd grab if your house was on fire?" that's what I always thought would be the best thing to grab. It had all my pictures on it and important documents and things. Then I grabbed my cat carrier and started looking for the cats. I looked in all their normal hiding spots and called for them, but I couldn't find them.
That was the worst part. I was so desperate to find them and was trying to think of where in the world they would hide. I knew all of their normal spots, but they weren't there. I knew I couldn't stay in there for too long. I knew lots of people died in fires because they tried to rescue their pets, but I had to rescue them because they were my babies. I was the one who took care of them and loved them and I couldn't just leave them.
Then my mom came into the house and she was looking too, but she was really panicking and crying and I heard her yelling that she could see the fire at the window in the bathroom and I knew I had to get her out of there. I can't remember after that. We got outside and we ended up sitting in the grass by the church, the fire trucks came and everything, and our neighbors came and were wonderful. They gave us blankets and they gave my dad a pair of socks and sneakers. The entire time I was begging God or the universe or whatever to please let my babies be safe. Eventually the firefighter came over, though, and told me he found one of the cats in my room deceased and it was Mimi.
Nothing has ever hurt so much. I've loved all of my kitties with all of my heart, but Mimi was special in a way I can't even begin to express. The firefighter said she hadn't suffered, she just went to sleep. And other online forums have said the same thing, so I have to believe it. I couldn't stand to think she'd felt any pain.
We left before they found Callie or Jesse. My aunt lives in the area and we're staying with her until we rebuild or buy a new home or whatever happens. When we'd been at my aunt's house for a bit, my dad texted to let us know that Jesse hadn't made it either. But they found Callie and she was okay. My mom cried so much over Jesse. He was special to her, I think like Mimi was special to me. I couldn't cry anymore; I think I mostly felt angry. Mimi dying was terrible, but she'd been so much older and her death really only hurt me so badly. But Jesse was still so young and losing him hurt my mom so badly.
Callie's okay, though. I think she's what's mostly getting me through this. For the first few days, especially, it was like everytime I started to cry over Mimi or Jesse or Arsene, Callie would just appear out of nowhere and jump up on the bed and cuddle next to me and start purring until I calmed down.
Anyway, this ended up really long... I don't really know if there's anything really to discuss, but I felt like it would help to write about what happened. It's just a lot... I feel like I've lost so many things in the past few years. Most of my close friendships, a lot of my dreams and plans for the future, my job, and now my home, most of my possessions, and my precious kitties. And I just feel completely dazed and lost and lonely now. People have been really nice, bringing food and sending gift cards, and being willing to listen. But it's just so hard.
