Tag Archives: Hobby Farm

Yesterday marked five months to the day since the fire.  I try to not count, but it is impossible not to.  It feels like a deep line has been drawn in my life.  Before the fire.  And after. 

For five months, the dogs and I have lived in a 30’ trailer on the lower property.  We haven’t had electricity, and we rely on generators, Jackerys, and solar to power our lives.  To say life has been a little challenging is an understatement.

But I think back to what life was like five months ago, and our little tiny house is a pretty big improvement.

I remember the first 24 hours after the fire vividly.  It is burned into my mind, pun intended.  The week that followed however is a blur.  I recall fragments of time.  Pieces of memories, but I can’t account for the majority of it.

We lived in the garage for the first week.  No heat, no bathroom, no water. Electricity came from a diesel generator stationed outside the garage door in the driveway.

It was a 15’ x 7’ area with no direct access for the dogs to go outside to go potty.  In order for them to go out, we had to leash up and navigate the flood of people that had invaded our post fire world. 

They were here to help… clean up crews. Crews to go through what was left of my life and sort it into salvageable and non-salvageable. Then, pack it all away into trash bags and storage boxes. There were insurance adjusters and the fire investigator.  So many strangers.

Those that know me, know I am an introvert.  I put on a good “extroverted” act in order to do my job, but being surrounded by so much chaos was like having the life sucked out of me by emotional vampires.  Add to that the fact that I was still in shock, and it is a miracle I remember any of it. 

That first week, the most immediate need was a place to live for the next year.  Since leaving my farm was not an option, that only left me one choice – a trailer.  

With no internet, searching for a trailer was almost impossible.  And leaving the property to go shopping for one?  Well, that wasn’t going to happen.  I could barely leave the property to go shower at the neighbors.  To this day, leaving is panic attack inducing, literally.   But that’s a blog for another day,

Thank goodness for my friend, Nick.  He knew what I was looking for and took to the internet and the local RV stores to find it.  He settled on a 30’ Coleman toy hauler as there wasn’t much else in my price range.  With all the dogs, a toy hauler just made sense. 

I handled as much as I could over the phone, but then came the dreaded day.  I had to leave the property and go sign the papers 40 minutes away.

I managed to struggle through the signing , but then came the walk through.  As I stepped foot into what was going to be my new home, anxiety washed over me like a tidal wave.  My vision blurred. My heart raced.  I nodded, but I didn’t hear a word the woman was saying.  I just kept thinking, “How will we all fit in here for a year?”

I needed to get home.

A brisk, tear-filled walk through the parking lot gave way to my first panic attack.  I couldn’t think.  I couldn’t breathe.  I hunched over in the middle of the road trying get oxygen into my asthmatic lungs.

How was I going to drive.  Mom.  I needed to call Mom, the only person in this world that can talk me off of a ledge.  And she did.  I don’t remember the drive, but I made it home.  Back to my dogs.

A few days later, our new home was delivered.  My friends arrived to help me get everything set up, and we moved everyone the 200 hundred feet from the garage to the trailer.  Welcome home!

I miss so many things, but most of all, I miss being comfortable. 

We have a roof over our head, and for that, I am eternally grateful.  But I miss being warm on cold days.  I miss not worrying about my dogs when the days get hot.  I miss the ease of just jumping into the shower before bed without worrying if there is enough water in the tank or if using the hot water heater when it is too late at night to have the generator running will leave me with enough battery to get to through until the morning.

I never again will take for granted what it means to live in a house with electricity and all the comforts of home at my fingertips. As my wise father used to say, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” But somedays, I wonder when I will be “strong enough”.

-Tiffanie

#farmgirltough

As I sat on my driveway, knees to my chest, thoughts flooded me.  Where would we stay tonight?  My animals just went through a traumatic event, and I was not about to separate them.  Not to mention, I needed them as much as they needed me.

The garage.  There was only a small area available as we had been working on fixing it up, but there was a 10’ x 15’ space that we could use.  It smelled like smoke, and I didn’t have any electricity since PG&E pulled my meter following the fire, but it was a roof over our heads.  And we would be together.

This was the kick I needed to pull myself up, literally, solidify the plan, and with my friends and neighbors, get to work setting it up.  We rescued crates from the house, neighbors took blankets and beds home to wash them so that we had clean bedding, dog and human.  All the crates and pens needed a good wash as well.  The driveway was now bustling.

While this was happening, a car pulled up that read “Giuliani Reconstruction”.  Having been through a flood at my tutoring center before, I knew what these guys were about.  They were the ambulance chasers of the home/office emergency world.  These companies swoop in and help with clean up and salvaging what they can.

At this moment, I wasn’t in a space to deal with any of that.  My first instinct was to send them packing.  But a little voice in my head said to hear them out. 

Eric and Matthew introduced themselves and explained briefly what their company does.  I had two questions:

“Are you a big corporation or independently owned?”

“Independently owned.”

“Will you (Matthew) be my point of contact from beginning to end?”

He replied with, “Yes, although you will have different project managers, too, throughout the phases.”

I was sold.  Those two gentleman proceeded to stay for most of the rest of the day.  They went and bought me lunch, they walked my dogs, they helped with the set up.  Most importantly, they got a generator on scene within hours so that I had some power.  They were a Godsend.

As the sun started to set, my temporary home was ready.  Dog crates and my cats’ condo bordered the walls, there was a potty area set up in the corner, and in the middle, with a 16” path around it, was an air mattress for me.

Francis, my house pig, and my other two house cats were secured… or so I thought… in the back enclosure.  Neighbors and friends had brought charging cords, camping lanterns, dog supplies, food for me, pillows, blankets… We were as ready as we could be for our first night.

Exhaustion flooded me as I put my head on the pillow, holding tight to my dogs, while the diesel generator hummed just 10’ from my head outside the garage door.  But sleep would not come.  My eyes were fixed on the ceiling while tears rolled down my cheeks.  That is how I spent the next nine hours. 

At 5:30 am, with the light peeking through the windows, I got up to take the first dogs out for a bathroom break.  This is when we saw it.  An animal at the end of the deck.  With the dim light, I couldn’t tell what it was.  Shoving the two dogs back into the garage, I slowly walked closer.

What did I find?  Francis. 

Francis… the pig that was supposed to be in the back enclosure with my cats.  Nope.  He pushed through the barrier that the fire department put across the doggie door and made his way into the burned-out house.  Then, since doors were still open to the outside, he meandered out to find the grocery bags from the night before that the fire fighters tossed to the side. 

As I worked to get him back in, the worst thought entered my mind.  The cats!  Did Tigger and Raven go in the house as well?  Tigger was not an issue.  I could just pick him up.  But Raven… He is semi-feral, and that was going to be a whole different level of crazy to get him. 

He did not disappoint.

With Francis locked on the deck, I went to search for my cats.  I found both of them hiding in the kitchen cupboard, surrounded by ash and all kinds of toxic debris.  Of course, Raven was closest to me.  Taking a deep breath, knowing this was going to include pain, I reached in and grabbed him.

I was not ready for the level of crazy he was about to unleash.  He sunk his teeth into my right arm.  Then my left.  Following up with razor sharp claws slashing at me.  After two bites, I was committed to not letting go of him.  I knew if I did, he would run out of the house, and I would most likely never see him again.

When his valiant efforts to free himself from my grip did not work, he upped his game.  Aiming at my face, he delivered three bites to my cheek.  Mustering everything in me, I opened the door to the enclosure, and tossed him outside. 

Blood was rolling down my face and dripping from the wounds on my arms as I picked Tigger up and carried him out.  This was not good.  My head was foggy from the events of the day before and lack of sleep.  I couldn’t even process what I needed to do to help myself at that moment.  Then a thought popped into my head. Deb.  Call Deb.  She will help you.

And so I did.  At 6:00 am in the morning, I asked Siri to call Deb.  She picked up right away.  Through my sobbing, she understood I needed help and without hesitation, headed my way.  Bandages and first aid supplies in hand, we cleaned up my wounds. 

A glance at my phone revealed it was now 7:00 am. There was a hay delivery coming in one hour.  A hay delivery?  The morning after the fire?  Yep.  I had scheduled this days before the fire, but cancelling it was not an option as I was down to two bales of hay.  The animals still needed to eat even if my house was charred.

That meant that the hay barn needed to be cleaned out so that they could stack the new bales.  With my face and arms throbbing, I made another call. 

“Sally?  Can you help me?”  Sally is my friend and neighbor, and she dropped everything that morning to come down and work alongside of me to get the hay barn ready.  When you have animals, you can’t just curl up in a ball and let the world spin around you… even though that is exactly what I wanted to do!  They rely on me for everything.  So I put on my big girl panties and got it done.

Day one of my new reality was off to a rough start.

-Tiffanie

#farmgirltough

“Behind every strong person is a story that gave them no choice.” – Unknown

And here is mine…

You never know when your life might be turned inside out and upside down.  For me, that happened on the morning of March 27, 2024. 

That morning, I took two of my dogs to the vet for their cardiology check up.  I left my house at 7:35 and drove the short distance to the vet’s office in Castroville.  While sitting in the waiting room, my friend, Abel, called.  He was scheduled to do some work at the house that morning, and I assumed he had a question about it.  Making a mental note to call him once they took Bailey and Sydney in, I leaned back on the bench, snuggling my girls.

A few seconds later, he called again… and again… on the fourth time, I picked up to hear Abel’s shaky voice saying the words that strike fear into most of our hearts.

“Your house is on fire!”

My first thought was disbelief.  He was joking, right?  Wrong.  The panic in his voice was real.  The only words I could get out of my mouth, were “Abel, save my dogs!”  I proceeded to shove my two girls at the receptionist with a quick, “My house is on fire…”, and I bolted out the door.

My brain was in a fog.  Adrenaline pumped through my body.  I called my friend and neighbor, Jodi, asking her to go help Abel get my dogs.  I called my Mom quickly to tell her to start praying.

The drive home was a blur.  I prayed for God to watch over my dogs and my Jeep to get me home fast and safe.  I remember blowing through red lights and looking down at my speedometer once to see I was going 85 on the backroads.  This was the longest drive of my life.

As I turned on my street, it was lined with emergency vehicles.  I threw my car in park about 150 feet from my house and ran up the road with firefighters yelling at me that I couldn’t go up there.  Once at the top of the driveway, my hysterical self was stopped abruptly by a firefighter who placed both hands on my shoulders to physically stop me from running inside.

I don’t know what I was saying, but I must have been yelling and crying because he got in my face and said, “Ma’am, you need to calm down now.”  That was what I needed to shake me into reality.

“But my dogs are inside…”

“Let us do our job.  How many?  And where?” he asked.

Well, that was a loaded question.  Where to start?  Fourteen of my dogs were inside as well as a boarding dog. 

Take a breath, Tiff, and think… start with the ones in crates and the boarding dog.

As I proceeded to tell him where to find the dogs that were in crates, I realized that two of my dogs, Kadin and Rayne, were already out of the fire and on the deck in their crates.  These two were crated in the living room when I left which was only about ten feet from the fire. 

I later came to find out that Abel kicked in my front door and ran into the burning house, not once, but twice to carry them to safety.  Things that were five feet past where they were, were melted onto the walls.  If he hadn’t brought them out… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to them.

Looking a little behind where Kadin and Rayne sat, I saw Chester, my 14 year old chihuahua, standing off to the side looking confused and dazed.  He is not a fan of new people, but on this day, he was staying close to the fire fighters.  Abel said Chester was at the door when he went in, and my little man ran out immediately.  As I scooped him in my arms, I felt such relief that these three were safe, but at the same time, so much fear not knowing where the others were.

The firefighters began, one by one, bringing my dogs out.  Indy.  Wicked. River. Puck. Seven safe.  Now, someone needed to go get my boarding dog, Leo.  He was loose in the back bedroom, but he was fearful of new people.  I begged them to let me go get him since I was afraid he would bite a stranger. That was a hard, “No.”

It was at this time that Jake, a Monterey County Sheriff’s officer, stepped forward.  “Give me a leash.”

“He might bite you.  Please, let me go.” I pleaded.

“I am a dog guy.  Give me a leash.” He responded.  And I handed him one. 

Fifteen minutes later, Jake emerged from the house with a scared Leo.  The first tears fell from my eyes as I loaded Leo in my van where my other dogs rested.

Next came Stella.  One of my solid white kittens.  She was covered in so much ash that she looked like a dark gray kitty.  They carried her out in her cat tower which was open at the time of the fire and only feet from the flames.  Since that had always been her safe place, she must have jumped in it to hide. She was in rough shape, but she was alive.  Her sister, Story, ran out to the enclosure with some of the dogs.

With eight dogs and one kitten out of the house and five more animals, plus Francis, my house pig, accounted for safe in the back enclosure, I still didn’t know where the rest of my crew was.  Abel had the idea to walk up the hill on the neighbor’s property to look down into the back of my house.  I started talking to the ones that were visible, and at the sound of my voice, all but one of the unaccounted for dogs peeked their heads out from their hiding spots.  Relief flooded me.

But where was Jinx?

Back to the fire fighter in charge, once again pleading with him to let me go in.  It had already been an hour, and I still had one dog unaccounted for.  Being a compassionate dog lover  himself, he gave a stern, “Stay on my heels,” and guided me into the house, asking where I thought she might be hiding and adding that they had looked everywhere.

Jinx is a master hider, and I knew she would only come out for me.  “My bedroom,” I replied.  Once there, I crouched down next to my bed and called her name.  Out from up inside the box spring, a little red nose poked out.  Jinxie!  Glancing from me to the tall man in the doorway, she wasn’t sure if it was safe, but with some reassuring talk, I was able to convince her to come to me.

With my dogs safely by my side, I sat down in my driveway and sobbed.

Where would we go?  A hotel was not an option with this many animals.  Staying with friends or family wasn’t one either.  A tent on the lower property?  So much unknown.  But luckily, the garage was relatively untouched by the fire.  The smell of smoke was strong, but it was my only option.

The next six hours were spent with friends and neighbors setting up a 10’ x 15’ section of my garage with crates and an air mattress.  This is where we would live for the next week while I could sort out where to go from here.

The whereabouts of a couple of my cats were still unknown, but I felt confident that they were hunkered down somewhere nearby and that I would find them when things calmed down.  And I did.  By 8:00 pm, I had accounted for everyone.  I secured (or so I thought) two cats and my pig in the back enclosure and headed to the garage for the first of many sleepless nights to come.

If it wasn’t for my neighbor, Danielle, who saw the smoke early on and acted quickly, calling 911, and for Abel, who jumped into action immediately, and for the quick response of the Monterey County Fire Department, this day would have had a much different ending.  The house can be rebuilt.

Thank you will never be enough for all the heroes that surrounded me that day.  Abel, Danielle, the firefighters, Jake, my neighbors, my friends, my community.  It was because of them that I stayed standing.  They surrounded me with love and support.  It was because of them that I found the strength to do what needed to be done that day and in the coming days. 

-Tiffanie

#farmgirltough