Watching Mary Poppins as a child gave me great expectations.

I thought I would meet fun-loving chimney sweeps everywhere, bursting into song and clicking their heels for the sheer joy of soot.

I lived four sad decades without hearing a single “chim chim cher-ee.”

But the wait is over. Sootie is here.

If you have ever used the scientific term “mushmallow” to describe an affectionate individual, be advised: Sootie is the mushiest mallow since mallows began mushing.

Sootie is all the songs, in all the musicals, simultaneously. Sootie is the pink in your cheeks when you blush, and the Happy Meal that “accidentally” included an extra toy.

Sootie is chocolate ice cream, zinnias, and a handwritten letter from someone who believes in you no matter what.

You might say I’m fond of Sootie.

But my fondness cannot hold a candle to Sootie’s fondness. Sootie is fond of me, but that is a by-product of the fact that I exist. Sootie is fond of everyone who does that.

Sootie is fond of Gulliver and Ginny and the new volunteers and the old volunteers and ballpoint pens and coffee cups.

Sootie presumably got her name because she is the color of soot. Soot is a sort of dust. That may not sound flattering, but Sootie knows what all those happy chimney sweeps knew.

Soot only forms from something warm. Soot means there is a fireplace. Soot is the signature of heat and light. Soot is made from the same stuff as sea lions, senators, and stardust.

(Two out of three ain’t bad.)

It’s enough to make you click your heels.

But before you do that, gather ’round the hearth named Sootie. All at once, her eyes will dance. The mushiest mallow will smush her entire existence into yours, rubbing your forehead as though she is trying to coat you in her own personal collection of comets.

This smushing will continue until you are one mega-forehead of mutual bliss, and you are not sure where you end and Sootie begins, but you are quite sure you have never been so sure of your own existence before.

And then the smushing will go on for a good, long while.

This is the point at which you will catch yourself singing.

Do not worry who else may be in the room. Do not try to keep your voice down. Do not hold a bushel over your bonfire or attempt to reclaim your dignity. You have never been so dignified as you are in this moment, covered in starlight that looks like black cat hair.

Just keep smushing.

My own inaugural smushing occurred during a Very Important Meeting in the Community Room, where Sootie lives. People were making good points. The discussion was productive. I think I was even assigned some “action items.”

But Sootie had me in her sights, and the smushing had begun. I had done nothing to deserve this. It was pure grace. One moment, I was viewing a PowerPoint presentation. The next, a perfect being was emphatically loving me, forehead-first.

I wondered if I should take off my shoes on this holy ground. Then I remembered what sorts of substances sometimes occur on this holy ground and thought better of that.

From across the universe, I heard someone calling my name. I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was, “chim chim cher-ee?”

Fortunately, I work at Tabby’s Place, not, say, the Sprocket Factory. Everyone in the room had been smushed. They all exist on behalf of cats. They all have great expectations, too.

There’s just one secret left to step out into the starlight.

Why has the mushiest of mallows not yet been smushed into her own forever s’more?

I confess, we are not exactly complaining.

Besides: everything sooty is finally worth the wait.

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