The burst of barking suddenly woke me up. It was 2:30 a.m. in the early morning. Wondering why Rock was making so loud noises, I decided to go to him. By the time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, he was running up. I felt strange, for he had never come up the stairs, no matter what. I think that was his way of telling me, “We've got to go back up.”
When I got to the top of the stairs, I turned around and saw a light on, but I didn't remember leaving one on. I walked downstairs again, and that's when I saw fire. I immediately shouted to my wife to wake up and get our three kids. I grabbed a knife and cut out the plastic that covered the window to the porch roof. I then forced open the window and kicked out the screen. I got everybody out on the roof and threw a blanket out there so we wouldn't slip off. It was cold, January cold. Then I started screaming for help. But help never came.
I was scared of heights, but I couldn't let my family burn up. So I just jumped off the roof and got the wind knocked out of me when I landed.
I found our ladder, placed it against the house, and climbed back up to the roof. I wrapped my arms around my daughter and carried my nine-month-old with my teeth, by his little sleeper. Then I climbed down the ladder. Once on the ground, I had my little girl hold her brother, and I went back up to the roof to get my other daughter. Then I went back up again and got my wife. I tried to get my dog, but he just disappeared in the black smoke. I never saw Rock alive again.
