So much for Canada's West Coast reputation representing moderate weather conditions. It hasn't been too balmy lately. Our younger son in Vancouver has already experienced several days of snow flurries where usually the rainy season begins about now in Vancouver. But then, the city experienced colder-than-normal temperatures last winter; they're just off on an early start.

Here in the Ottawa Valley we're catching up, although our well-deserved reputation is one of extreme cold and snowy winters, and we haven't yet had snow flurries. That is destined to change and soon. Tomorrow night the temperature will take a decided plunge, to minus-13-C degrees, with the daytime high forecasted to struggle up to minus-7-C for Friday.

It has certainly seemed to us to be cold enough, thanks to incessant rain and wind. We decided it was time to put warmer coats on Jackie and Jillie, so their colourful winter knitted coats were the cold- protection coverings of choice yesterday when we set off for our usual ravine hike at 2-C degrees. Bright green for Jackie and bright red for Jillie.

Because it was penetratingly cold, thanks to the wind and the dampness, I thought it might be a good idea to prepare French onion soup alongside a big, fresh salad for dinner yesterday; the hot soup warming and comforting on a cold day. To get ahead of the preparations, when we returned from our hike, I put together the croutons for the soup, and slipped them into our little toaster-oven. And then promptly forgot about them.

We left the puppies at home and went off for an appointment at the clinic where our family physician works out of, for our annual flu shots. That done, we headed for the bank to withdraw cash, and from there to the grocery supermarket where we usually shop. While we were at the bank, the strangest feeling came over me, as though there was something awry, something I'd forgotten. I couldn't think of what it might be and did a mental shrug.

Later, when we were three-quarters of the way through our grocery shopping it suddenly dawned on me that I'd forgotten all about shutting off that toaster oven, and the thought flooded my mind that Jackie and Jillie, at home alone, faced a potential threat of fire. I felt fearful for them and panicked, telling my husband we had to return home immediately. In a tizzy I told a store employee we'd be right back, and she parked our almost-full shopping cart where we could later resume shopping.

Although we live a scant ten-minute drive from the supermarket it seemed that at three in the afternoon traffic was enormously busy and horribly slow. We hit all the red lights, my husband scrupulously stopped at every stop sign, though by now my sense of fear had communicated to him. Soon as we stepped through the door, Jackie and Jillie were beside themselves with joy, as I ignored them to shut off the toaster oven, and open its door to view the croutons.

Fortuitously, I'd had the heat control on quite low. While I envisioned the croutons burning and the oven catching fire, nothing of the kind had occurred. The croutons, amazingly, were still palatable. Lesson, dare I say, learned. I'll use a timer, hereafter.