It already happened to me. The flames of a wind-fueled brush fire were already caressing the house, the roaring noise woke me up.
I ran out of the house in boxer shorts and holding my cats on each arm. Screw the car and wallet and computer, it was the cats.

Then a water line that ran behind the house burst, and drenched the entire place, extinguishing the flames and saving the house, and with barely any damage, only superficial, cosmetic. It felt like a one-in-a-million thing, but the configuration of physical elements and the sequence of events made it inevitable.

The place did stink of smoke for several days, though. Then random whiffs of charred odor kept on popping in and out for weeks.