The Fireman Essay, Part 9: The Emergency Call

I was at the Fire Station, sleeping in my bunk, while Firedog was chewing on a plastic bone. We were presently relaxed, as there were no fires to fight; for it was late in the evening, and the hottest tragedies happen during the daytime — as I explained earlier, the real fires only occur when the sun comes out with its deadly rays and begins to burn everything; but, late at night, the atmosphere remains cool, idyllic and pastoral. 

So I had fallen asleep to the sound of Firedog’s contented gnawing. Then, suddenly, I was startled awake by the rattle of the fire-bell. This meant that, somewhere out there, a fire was raging. So Firedog and I then headed out to do some firefighting.