I know because of my post on FB about Peet, some people who have never been here before may be taking a look. Please know my story about Peet is the story after this one. Scroll down and thanks.

Today I have no pucky to write anything. Ken and I are grieving Peet so much, it hurts.

So today I have copied and pasted info about the fire, that others have written.

The first is from our friend Kassie, whose house we bought here in Sechelt. She gives better fire updates than I can, but her words echo mine. Under that is some education about fire terminology that helps me understand things better when official updates come in.

We’re holding our own.
Our Fire is now 300+ hectares large, still burning, with 40% containment. This means that currently they’ve stopped it from burning into our residential areas. They did, as a precaution, evacuate 18 remote homes that are accessible by boat only.
Air quality here is a hit and miss thing. The smoke is thick and nasty at times. Ash falls like snow at times. It all depends on the winds shift. The windows are getting a workout.
We just got 20 firefighters shipped in from Ontario yesterday, yaaaay. So our manpower in firefighters as grown to 100 personnel doing three, round the clock shifts. This will make a huge difference in containment.
So all in all, compared to other BC fires … like the two wildfires currently burning in pemberton, bc … which just one of those is well over 20,000 hectares burning … We can’t complain, as odd as that sounds.
The weather people say that we might get rain within days. All we’re saying is … Make it rain for a week straight with no lightning, please!
…
Many people seem to be confused about the terminology used in forest fire control. Here is a bit in layman’s terms:
Command: The organization that is charged with administering fire operations. It could be the Forest Service, a timber company, a local fire department, or a native band.

Control: When the command organization is confident that they have the resources to deal with the advance of the fire, it is said to be under control. A fire which is out of control means the command organization is not confident the advance of the fire can be stopped.

Contained: A fire is said to be contained when it has a ‘guard’ around it. This is a pathway about 1m wide cleared down mineral soil (ie: not combustible material). It can be wider if cleared by machines such as a bulldozers, but most places on the Coast it is done by hand (due to inaccessibility by machines, too steep). This is the main job for ground fire crews. In very steep areas too dangerous to work with ground crews or machines, a fire can be deemed guarded by fire retardant lines laid down by air tankers (waterbombers using water mixed with non-flammable chemicals). It can also mean portions or all of the fire has come up against non-combustible material (Rock bluffs, water bodies). THIS DOES NOT MEAN THE FIRE IS OUT. It is certainly possible for the fire to jump the guard if winds come up. Once the guard is in place, the fire is monitored constantly for escapes, which are attacked and guarded again.

Mop-Up: Putting out hot spots within the guarded area is known as mopping up. A fire is said to be, say, 40% mopped up when that amount of total area of the fire is out. Mop up is done from the around the guard, in towards the centre of the fire area to secure the perimenter. On large fires, it is not always practical or necessary to mop up 100%.

Patrol/Monitor Stage: The fire has been mopped up, and is being patrolled for hot spots on foot, from the visually from the air, or with infra red scanners (like night-vision goggles) for hot spots.

Out: Once the fire area has been patrolled for an amount of time with no hot spots observed to the satisfaction of the Forest Service, the fire is deemed to be out. This does not mean it is safe to enter the area, as much of the standing burnt trees and ground will still be unstable.

The first time I met Peet, it was 1980, I was living in Albuquerque.

Dale Garcia, my boss at Los Alamos Technical Assoc. was complaining about his calico cat Mousa. See, Mousa was a whore. (His words not mine.) Dale said he couldn’t catch Mousa in time to spay her because she was always either pregnant or nursing. He said they had a several kittens up for adoption and would I like one?

I had just left my first husband, and I think it was the first time in my life I was without a cat. All my life there was a cat in whatever home I was living.

I went to look at the kitties. Dales daughter pointed at this little orange thing that hissed at me, and said, “Take that one, he is mean.”

I took him, named him Peet, after my first boyfriend, and my life got better.

Peet was a handful. I remember the time he crawled into a rose bush and got stuck. With all the thorns poking everywhere, we had to use gloves to get him out. His curious ways made him fall into a bag of charcoal briquets once. He came out looking like a black cat; not orange at all.

Peet also would invite the neighbour cats over when I was at work. Once, I came home and there were, I kid you not, at least 5 other cats hanging around the living room. They looked like they were recovering from a huge party as they napped, draped over the sofa and chairs. Peet gave me the oddest look when I shooed them out!

When I met Ken, we moved from NM to Colorado and of course Peet came with. On the way, we camped out in the Jemez Mountains and we put Peet safely in the tent and zipped it up tight so we wouldn’t lose him. He got out — how we will never know. He wandered around the campsite, and forest, checking in with us every hour or so. We finally put him in the truck, so that when we were ready to leave, he’d be around.

When we went to go – Peet was no where to be found. Seriously, he was the best escape artist I ever knew. Long story; short… he showed up.

Peet and I and our dog Laska, settled into our new home on Prairie Rd. with Ken and his cat Tinkerbell. Everyone got a long just fine, except me and Tinkerbell. I don’t think he ever forgave me for bringing in such a tribe.

We all moved to Oregon after a few years, and Peet thrived with the run of a few acres, near our house, outside of town. That is until one day when we couldn’t find him (nothing new), but when we went looking, we found he had been hit by a car. I was devastated.

It wasn’t long before Peet made another appearance though.

I was teaching Tai Chi at a community centre and there he was; a skinny orange cat, hollering, hungry, and homeless. I took him home.

This Peet was as much of a goof as we had come to know. The only real difference was this Peet didn’t like going outside.

One beautiful day, we tossed him out and left the house for a few hours. When we came home Peet was no where to be seen. We called out and looked all over the place. In the distance we could hear a muffled meow, but could not figure out from where. As we narrowed it down, Ken found him.

Peet had crawled up onto the roof of the house. He decided he wanted in. So he came down the chimney. Unfortunately, he only got part way down before he hit the closed flue! We had no idea how to get him out!

Lucky for us and him, Ken could reach up from the fire place, open the flue just enough, so this boneless Peet could slide out. He of course once again, looked like a black cat. We had to wash him well to get all the orange back.

Like all Peets, he was a great hunter. One day he brought me a giant bull frog. If you know me, you know I am not a fan of frogs. Not a fan at all! Having a huge fucking bull frog in the kitchen about put me over the edge. I had to get the neighbour to save me. Harrison, who was about 100 years old, had to crawl under the table and catch the dang thing. A true hero acted while Peet went back to sleep it off.

Once again, Peet got caught by a car, and we were crushed.

When we moved to Canada, Ken and I moved only with Annie, the sweet black kitty we inherited from my job at the blueberry farm.

We were on Bowen Island only a few months, when just up the street, the calico kitty (also rumored to be a whore) gave birth to a litter. One of them was orange who hissed us when we said, Yes!

Ken carried him home when he was just six weeks old, and cute as pie. He was also mean. He would hiss me when I tried to pet him and hid in a box by the door we kept hats and gloves in. Soon he was friendly enough and again, a bit of a handful; a joyful handful with a big personality.

Like all cats we served him, so when he had to go outside, and then inside, then outside and then inside, all this at two in the morning… Ken had it, and yelled out… “it is me or the cat!” and I laughed and asked where Ken thought he might go… well, Peet got a cat door the next day, and was free to come and go at his own will. He was also now able to bring home many his hunting trophies, which he rarely killed, he was more of a catch and release cat. He didn’t mind leaving the dirty work up to me and Ken, and at times Lucy.

Peet loved living on Bowen. He had free range of a big house, huge yard and made the rounds of the neighbourhood. Everyone knew Peet.

Peet used to go for hikes with us. He would even walk all the way to the beach, or up the trail behind the house, joining us as we walked Lucy and Cricket.

The Bowen Island Tai Chi House held many a camp and class, where Peet stood in the middle of every lesson. He was quite the socialite, taking any attention given. Once he even chased a big deer into the circle; I think he did it to impress Pat! And, I’ll never forget when he took all the attention away from Sam, climbing a tree, just when Sam was at a pivotal point in the lesson.

We have story after story about Peet and the joys and adventures we shared; when you live with someone for 19 years, well, you get stories.

The move to Sechelt was good for me and Ken, but not so much for Peet.

At 19 years old, Peet had never been in a car. Being put in a carrier, and taken for two ferry rides, to a new house was not an easy for him. Peet had to become an indoor cat, and while he did pretty well, he usually peed and pooped, “close” to the box, if not actually in it.

As an old kitty, he started going down hill fairly fast. He slept most of the time, but when he was awake, he was a talker. All Peets had things to say. We could all carry on conversations on a variety of topics. I will say, Peet liked politics the best and was quite a liberal.

Yesterday, Peets life ended. While I never say never… I’m pretty sure our 36 year ride with Peet is also over. It is just too hard right now. Ken and I are heart sick. The emptiness is huge.

 

Peet the Cat

Ring the bells and let the dead know he is coming, lest they get in his way.

“We must believe in freewill — we have no choice.” — Isaac Bashevis Singer (1904 – 1991)

“It could be worse… it could be better.” —Jan Parker (1955 – present)

Our house is very well built. I know this, because all the windows and doors are closed up tight. We are keeping smoke from the fire out of the house as best we can. Closed up widows, doors, and a fucking fire around the corner, also means no fresh air, and the house hot and stuffy.

Our news is not as horrible as the news given to the family of the man who was killed fighting this fire yesterday.

Still, I think everyday — change has to come. If it were not for Peet – I’m sure Ken and I would leave. But, Peet is family, and he would have a harder time in the van than we are having in the house, so we stay, and we stay inside.

There are 117 fires burning in BC right now, and they say the big and dangerous ones are in Alberta.

I don’t pray — yet, I understand why some do. Repetitive words and pleads, keeps the mind busy. It gives us the illusion that we are doing something. Wishing things different. (and I do wish things were different.)

We humans have so many funny ways to try to accept the things we cannot change. So at 2pm this afternoon, everyone please face our way, pucker up, and blow real hard.

Maybe we can put this fire out!

When I read the book Wild by Cheryl Strand, a line her mother said really struck with me.
“Put yourself in the way of beauty.”

I like to think I do that as often as I can. The sunrise, sunsets, ocean views and snow capped mountains around here make it very easy to be in the way of beauty, on a regular basis.

I also make it a point to keep myself shielded from the ugly. I don’t watch the news, or violent movies, I hide my eyes under blankets and turn my head at mans inhumanity, and most cruel things of the world.

I am not ignorant — it is just that participation in sights and sounds that make me uncomfortable… Well, they make me uncomfortable and while turning my head, doesn’t change anything; not staring, is how I deal.

I know I have a really good life, I am first to know my privilege, and I am very grateful.

This week, I’ve put the camera away. The fire that rages near our home is producing some incredible sights. Orange skies, shooting flames, smokey and eerie views of the forest can be seen from different points around town. Out my office window, I see smoke, and coloured sky and normally, I would grab the camera and click away with these nature shots.

But, I don’t like to look. It is bad enough when we go looking for updates on the internet highway, that I see a photo with the caption – Sechelt is Burning!

Sechelt is not burning. The forest around Sechelt is. There are over 800 fires in BC as of today and the resources are really stretched. That was never something I thought about, when we chose to move here. I just assumed we’d have fire and police protection.

We are not forgotten, and we are protected, but we are not a priority right now. In a weird way, it is both scary and comforting. It means that while the forest burns, people are not in danger… yet.

I know that no matter what happens, Ken and I and Peet will be okay. I also know we will look back on this and say… that sucked. I also know I won’t have any photos of this to remind us.

I don’t do drama.

I don’t watch dramas on TV or at the movies, I prefer singing and dancing and sitting on the deck and laughing with Ken.

For the most part I have a perfect life. Yes, I’m bragging a bit, but we have worked hard to keep drama at bay… for the most part.

I also use my training and practice and the support of Ken and amazing friends, that when things start to build, I have people to defuse the situation or listen to me as I get all calm again.

Everyone has stress — it is how you deal with it that makes the difference, and I do my best to walk tall, stand well, and move through any big drama.

But… come on!
The last couple of weeks have been a challenge.

First, I got called to NM. My dad is dying, but not dead. My brother Art and I did our best to get all the help he needs and after 10 days, I came home, leaving dad in Arts capable hands.

While I was there, the bat-shit crazy neighbour lady, broke into dads house, caused huge problems, threw ice cream all over the living room and we had to call the cops. (Did I mention, she is bat-shit crazy!)

As soon as I got home, my dear friend Marian had to call 911 and went to hospital with huge stomach pains. Still in nurse mode, I jumped on two boats and ran over to be with her. It wasn’t long before I realized I had no energy to be of any help, and when she promised she was okay, I came back home, looking to just sleep.

BUT… last night, a forest fire broke out about 7 km from where we live and we are now evac ready. The fire is now about 8 hectares big and smoke and big dark clouds are in the sky. Sechelt made it through the night and today we keep looking for news as to the next right thing to do.

There are a thousand ways life could be harder, and yet, I sure could use a nap.

I’m glad to be with Ken. I am really grateful we have a van, so if we need to go somewhere else, at least we will have a bed, toilet, and stove to take us away from this particular drama.

Oh, for the days of pretty hikes, easy stress free living, and naps!