Flood.

Every time it crazy-rains like today, and the sidewalks flood over so there is no hope of me not getting my feet wet, and cars start hydroplaning, and someone probably should just get on building an ark already - every time it is like that, then I am reminded of the time a dozen years ago or more (um… 2008) when downtown Fredericton flooded like a real bastard. Lou Lou and I lived at the bottom of York street, and so the swollen river was just a few yards from our apartment. We took the Slovenian teen who was staying with us* there for sight seeing purposes. I don’t recall being overly concerned the first few days, but then Trinitea's Cup put up a sign on their door declaring that the End was Nye, and rumours of power-outtages ran amuck.

We decided that we should probably become refugees.

Lou Lou and our young Slovenian fled to a relative’s home outside of town. I was invited, but I had one giant orange tag-along that it seemed inappropriate to bring. Raleigh was a house guest that required moving a shit-box into your home, so I completely understand.

I called Cameron. I used my best damsel in distress voice. He didn’t seem that bothered. I used my best “I’ll never speak to you again if you let me and my cat down in a flood” voice. He rescinded, albeit disgruntled.

As we stuffed Raleigh’s cat-carrier into the idling cab, some friends of Cameron’s happened to be walking down York to spy on the waters and asked what we were doing. I commend him for answering that question with a straight face.  

“Uh… Marg wants me to save her from the flood.”

“And my cat!”, I squeaked from the cab.

“Oh.. I see.” said his friend.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t think the flood was that bad…”

“Nope, me neither.” said Cameron.


And they were right, of course. Our power never went out, and living on the second floor, there never was any risk of us actually getting flooded out.

Raleigh did have an excellent time leaping through Cameron’s laundry piles though.




*Yup.