The house I lived in from 4th grade until I went off to college had a wood stove in the basement. It was a great way to heat the house, but only if someone lit it fairly early in the morning and it was tended all day. On cold winter Saturdays, we could actually put away our wool sweaters and wear short sleeves by mid-afternoon. Weekdays weren't nearly so toasty since everyone was gone to work or school all day and couldn't light it before 3 in the afternoon. The ceiling in the basement was one of those drop ceilings with the panels that fit in the grid, and the panel next to the vent that sent heat upstairs was broken. Somehow and for some reason our cat kept climbing into the hole and getting trapped. She'd sit in the ceiling and mew loudly until we realized where she was and rescued her through the vent upstairs. Eventually my parents covered the hole with newspaper or something. For a few weeks after, though, she could still be found sitting under the hole and staring at it like it might open for her.
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