Imagine this. The four of us--three of my sisters and myself--set off for a relaxing vacation in Lancaster, PA. We wanted to see the Amish. We booked a tour to learn all about their unique way of life. And we rented a beautiful old farmhouse on a horse farm about twenty minutes outside of Lancaster called Shallowbrook Farm, circa 1850.
We were excited about the trip--catching glimpses of the Amish in their buggies, eating all that delicious fattening food, partying together when we made it back to our lovely farmhouse at night. But, most of all, we were looking forward to the fire pit. It sat on the side of the house and beckoned to us. Much like the siren call beckoned the sailors from Odysseus' ship.
My one sister Cheryl is an expert at fire pits so we knew she could get that fire roaring. My other sister Karen promised to bring the marshmallows. Cyndi, my youngest, with her ease and grace would keep the conversation flowing. And I, of course, had Chuck.
"This is a real fire," I cautioned. "You can't get too close to it." I don't have a fire pit at my house, and I knew Chucky had never seen a real fire pit before. So I was a bit worried how he would react. But even though this belly boy is impulsive, he does have some degree of common sense. He would be able to feel the heat generated from the burning wood. He would have sense enough to keep his distance.
Or so I thought.
Fast forward. Cheryl brought the necessary "fire starter" kit. She had matches. There was wood stacked on the side of the farmhouse. The fire pit was in essence a circular construct of large boulders that enclosed an area where you would build the fire.
The only thing we didn't anticipate was how darned cold it was outside. There is cold and then there is COLD. It took a while for the fire to catch on. We were a very impatient bunch. We pulled our chairs closer to the boulders. Chuck was with us, watching his Aunt Cheryl intently as she steadily added paper, wood, and lit the match.
"How much longer?" we all wanted to know.
"Once it catches on, "Cheryl assured us. "You'll be nice and warm.
We wore heavy coats, scarves, hats and gloves. Chucky had his fur coat to keep himself warm. We stamped our feet. I put my feet on top of one of the boulders, but Cheryl immediately cautioned me. "Be careful. Your boots might melt right off your feet, once this fire gets roaring."
If only . . . I thought to myself, then I'd be able to feel my toes.
While we waited for the fire to grow hotter, Karen brought out the marshmallows. We loaded them on the professional telescoping skewers we found in the farmhouse and tried not to burn those white round puffs of sweetness as we softened them in the ever growing fire. Roasting marshmallows was something we did as kids. There's nothing better or worse than getting the marshmallow stickiness all over everything. Chucky wasn't sure if he liked the marshmallow taste or not.
But at least it took our mind off the COLD.
Finally, the fire took off. I pulled my chair even closer, struggling to feel more of the fire's heat.
That's when it happened. And I partially blame myself for being such a terrible role model. Chucky, who obviously was also very cold, had been pacing around. He saw what I did and decided, I guess, to get one step closer.
He bounded on top of one of the boulders and leaned in. Too close to the fire.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head. What if he decides to jump in? What if he really doesn't understand the nature of fire, doesn't realize he can get severely burned? If I leap up and try to grab him, he could try to get away from me and slip . . . I imagined him in the fire. The funeral afterwards. How would I explain it all?
I was frozen into doing nothing.
The fire pit was now raging. Flames leapt out as if their sole mission was to claim my helpless cat.
My sisters sat in stunned silence. Watching. Waiting.
I had to do something. I calmed my fears and called out, "Chucky, honey, come down off that giant rock."
He tilted his head towards me. Weirdly, he didn't seem panicked or in anyway alarmed.
I needed to get a grip.
Then he let out a big sigh and jumped down.
I scooped him up and squeezed him against me. He was safe. His fur was super warm. I was almost jealous.
Cyndi, the voice of reason, said, "I think we need to go inside now. It's too COLD out here."
Cheryl said, "Yeah. For the full fire pit experience, you need hot chocolate or coffee and a blanket wrapped around you."
"And you need something in that coffee and a heated blanket," Karen added.
And you need a Chucky sitting on your lap. That's what makes a perfect fire pit experience. Surrounding yourself with the ones you love.
STAY TUNED FOR MORE ADVENTURES OF CHUCK, THE RASCAL CAT. AND PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT. CHUCK WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. JUST CLICK ON "COMMENT." IT'S EASY.
