Chimney Sweep

It was Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. night and The Precious made a motion, which I seconded, to have a fire in the fireplace.  I like fire.  So The Precious built a nice big crackly one, and we turned off the lights and settled in for a visit with Phil Coulson (his first name is Agent), while the Lady of the House watched over her kittens in front of the TV.
About fifteen minutes into the show, a sudden large dark mass of slobbery shag dropped out of nowhere smack-dab in the middle of the room.  It took a few seconds to figure out that it was a cat.  A long-haired cat.  Definitely not a house cat.  In fact, it wasn't even our cat.  Everybody started talking.
"Who is that?"
"It's that stray!"
"What in the world is wrong with it?"
"Why is its face all icky?"
"How did he get in here?"
"Did somebody leave the back door open?"
"He just jumped out of the fireplace!"
"How do we catch him and get him out of here?"
"He's covered in soot!"
"Is he bloody?"
"It's slobber, his lungs are burned!"
Just then the Lady of the House noticed our unexpected guest, and she didn't waste time asking questions.  She simply unleashed an assault.  Agent Coulson was drowned out by clouds of ash, clumps of fur, and screams of animals.  Poor Mark Sinclair Vincent St. Agnes von Lichtenschtein got caught in the crossfire, which gave the chimney sweep a split-second to seek refuge down the hall under Lefty's bed.
Hunneypunkin began hollering instructions that nobody heard.  Lefty intercepted the Lady of the House and managed to shut her with her children in the utility room without losing any blood or limbs.  Angel Doll and Pixie spirited Mark Sinclair Vincent St. Agnes von Lichtenschtein away to the safety of the princess chambers.  I Googled "how to treat smoke inhalation in cats" while The Precious held his head and rocked himself and shouted, "Stupid cats, we're missing Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.!"
Someone managed to get the stray back outside, where he apparently got enough rest and fresh air to recover even without my internet knowledge.  There's a grate over the chimney now to prevent further incidents.  We've had a cat in the chimney before, but not during fire season.  http://chevroletmama.blogspot.com/2012/10/chewables-thinks-hes-spaniard.html  It took a day or so to get all the sootprints cleaned up and the smoky smell out of the bedroom.
We missed most of the show that night, but it's not that big of a deal.  We can always catch up online or wait for a rerun.  Now if I had missed an episode where Jeremy Renner had made a guest appearance as The Hawk, that would have been a real burn.

Obituary

Chewables http://chevroletmama.blogspot.com/2012/10/chewables-thinks-hes-spaniard.html and his sister Princess were born on Memorial Weekend.  Their mother, Moreo, took an inadvertent trip to the landfill on a trailer full of rubbish the very next day, and though we tried, we were never able to retrieve her.  So Chewables, Princess, and the rest of their brothers and sisters were fostered by a neighbor cat who had just had new babies, on the condition that when the kittens were old enough, all the cats including the mother would move to our place.
When the combined litter was old enough, they did indeed move to our place.  Their mother didn't like it here and kissed them all goodbye, and one by one the kittens moved away too, except for Chewables and Princess.  After a year or so, even Princess left to seek her fortune, but Chewables remained.
Chewables was a ladies man and he, like Abraham of the Bible, became the father of many.  Truth be told, he was eventually the father of all the ladies, at which time he went to the vet.  You know, to be tutored.  After tutoring, Chewables became the caretaker of all our other cats.  He bathed them, played with them, babysat them, and taught them how to hunt.  When we brought Wild One home from Grandpa's farm on Father's Day, Chewables both tamed and befriended him.  Chewables and Wild One were best friends until the day Chewables died.  Until today.
The Precious found Chewables this morning, lying on the patio outside our back door.  No blood, no marks, no broken bones.  He looked like he was sleeping, but with his eyes open.  We picked him up and held him.  We tried to be tough and cool but we just cried like girls.  (We girls did, anyway.  The boys just took off with shovels.)  We were still able to curl him up and snuggle with him.  But this was the only time we ever held him when he didn't purr.
You weren't old enough to die, Chewables.  What happened to you?  You weren't sick.  Did you jump off someplace too high, as you were so fond of doing, but this time hit your head?  We will miss you.  The other cats will miss you.  Jeremy Renner would have liked you a lot.  I don't care what anybody says, I believe that all pets go to heaven.