A cold wind danced with the bare trees limbs and the light snow outside turned to ice. I was snuggled in my warm robe in front of the TV, thinking of turning in for the night. Sir Harley disturbed the winter scene. He was standing by our French door and barking his, “What it this bark?”
Sir Harley uses various communication tactics – talk for a dog bone, short bark for a walk or swim, loud bark for trespassers, and medium barks with pause for something new.
It was the last bark that came to my ears as I switched off the TV for the night. I did not want to remove myself from my cozy position to see what was new to him. Sometimes it was just a flowerpot moved to a different location. I yelled for him to be quiet. He persisted. I shouted that it was okay, nothing to worry about. He kept barking. Giving up, I said,” You win, I’ll come look.”
As I rounded the corner and looked towards the water, I saw flames, shooting flames coming from my neighbor’s boat. Other boats were close by and tree limbs hung near the shore. Not waiting to see if the wind would drive the flames to us, I dialed 911.
“My dog has alerted me to a boat fire.”
“What type of boat?”
“Large.”
“What type of engine?”
"Inboard”
Other questions followed without much success because I do not know boats. She assured me that help was on the way.
I called my neighbor, the one who had rescued Sir Harley, to inform him of the fire on his boat. He was sound asleep and oblivious. However, not for long, I could already hear fire trucks coming down the street.
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Even without sirens, the noise of the engines and brakes aroused those who were unaware. I counted 15 engines – pumper trucks, hook and ladders, and emergency teams lined up like a train. Twenty or so dark forms scurried toward the water making tracks in the white icy snow and dragging huge hoses that pumped water from the creek. Black smoke poured from the boat. They boarded with axes to reach the source. I peered from the window. Smoke blew across the creek and not toward our homes. The firefighters contained the fire but could not extinguish it.
Sir Harley stopped barking and we sat and watched. Two fireboats one from Baltimore and one from Annapolis chugged into view and added their spray. The fire seemed to be out and then would burst into flames again. The firefighters knew what to do and kept up their vigil until it was safe. Sir Harley and I retreated to bed. My dog kept the neighborhood from a fiery trial. If the other boats had exploded, the wind would have spread the fire quickly.
The next day Sir Harley made the Maryland Gazette in an article titled "Pooch Pulled the Alarm on Boat Fire". My Pasadena neighbor was grateful the fire was contained, but he wished that I had heeded Sir Harley’s call earlier and thus saved his boat.
