The tell-tale scratch and flutter

Most of you who know me know that I'm a sucker for little critters -- but not when they're stuck in my fracking chimney.

At about 7 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of Simon fussing downstairs, followed by the terrifying sound of nails, claws or beak scratching inside my chimney. I ran downstairs and tried to comfort Simon, who merely stared at me briefly and then redirected his attention to the fireplace, tail twitching in distress. I waited a moment, hoping the sound was just carrying from atop the chimney, but seconds later it came again, and it definitely seemed to be coming from right above the metal closure.

I told whatever it was to go away, to no avail, and then I called my landlady, who suggested I open the flue and let the offending creature out the front door. Um, no? I will not have a potentially disease-ridden animal fly or scurry through my apartment, thankyouverymuch. Still exhausted from my day at court (on an hour or so of sleep, I willed myself to the courthouse and waited through 6 hours of nonsense to learn I hadn't been chosen for the jury; then I worked four hours at the paper), I did the only thing my poor, tired brain could tell me to do: put in my earplugs and try to forget about my house guest and get a few more hours of sleep. I had a nightmare -- I kid you not -- about poor Simon being bitten on his belly and dying of rabies.

When I awoke, Simon was lying peacefully on the bed beside me. Great, I thought. The bird or squirrel found its way out! Sadly, I was mistaken. The horrifying rustling started up again, and though I couldn't bring myself to get too close to the fireplace, I'm fairly certain I saw a couple of feathers. There wasn't time to do anything about it, as I had to be at work in an hour. I left my apartment after telling Simon to be good and strong and brave (and to avoid eating or being scratched or bitten by the critter if it somehow got out). I spent the rest of the night worrying about it. What if the wily beast did manage to get into my apartment? What if young Simon, whose previous people robbed him of his front claws, couldn't deal with the animal without suffering injuries to his sweet little kitty self, and what if the animal had a disease? It was a long shift.

So now I'm home, and I haven't heard a thing from the chimney. I guess the animal escaped or is sleeping. Or dead. Only time will tell.

Simon is all tuckered out from his big day, and so am I.