This morning I had just finished feeding Ethan his morning yogurt and was getting him out of his highchair when the smoke alarms in our condo and the fire alarms in our hallway started going off. LOUDLY. Fortunately I had morning plans and so had already changed out of my way-too-small-for-my-post-baby-body-pjs and had put on makeup and combed my hair. But there I was, with alarms going off. What to do? What to grab? Our cats went running at the sound of the alarm, and I knew that 1) we only have one cat carrier and have two cats, 2) I really didn't think that this was a real fire, given the lack of flames or smoke anywhere around and 3) if it was a real emergency, I needed to get shoes on myself and grab a jacket for Ethan and GET OUT OF THE BUILDING and not waste time trying to convince the cats to come out of hiding. So I did. Feeling like a terrible kitty-parent all the while, especially when I got outside and saw a bunch of my neighbors (seriously, does no one in our condo building have a job?) standing outside holding their dogs and cats.
The fire trucks came roaring up pretty quickly and we made small talk while we waited outside. I mentioned to one person that I'd left my cats upstairs. She'd left one cat in her condo and grabbed the other. That made me feel better. She said that I should be sure to tell Ethan 20 years from now that I chose him over the cats.
The fire was nothing. I think that some construction being done in the back courtyard and stairway probably set off a smoke detector. The cats were upset when I got back, but were calmed down with the help of treats. Thankfully it was all just practice. But it did reaffirm that we need a plan of action should a real emergency happen. Cats included.