By Jane C. Hu, Outside Online, December 3, 2020
When Aimee Gray woke up on a Sunday morning in October 2017, she decided she was finally going to get a new pair of shoes. She’d worn holes in her favorite Skechers, so when she and her husband headed into town for groceries, she stopped in the shoe store and treated herself to two new pairs.
As they drove back to the home they rented on Bennett Ridge Road, in the hills southeast of Santa Rosa, California, her husband remarked on the strange, warm wind that had been blowing through town all weekend. Later that night, as she lay in bed, Gray heard it whipping through the trees until she finally drifted off.
Just before 2 A.M., Gray woke up to her mastiff barking frantically. She thought, It’s a windy night, I know—go back to bed, Brighton. But Brighton wouldn’t stop, so Gray got up. As soon as she opened the bedroom door, smoke hit her in the face. She ran to the other side of the house. Outside the big picture window overlooking the valley, everything was red with fire. “You’re the best damn dog in the world,” she told Brighton, patting her on the head.
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