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Velvet's Bee

Blacker than night and four months old, Velvet came into our lives when she was barely weaned from her mother at six weeks. An ad in the paper, a desperate plea for homes for an unwanted and unanticipated litter was how we found each other.

Being the parenting types, and with the kids all grown up and going about their own lives, I imagine it was 'empty nest' syndrome that drove us to seek out a surrogate child, and while not generally a lover of cats, Velvet has become such a part of me that when she was injured this morning, I acted as though my child was being murdered.

I had no idea that I would love this animal so much. Having had cats before for the sake of my children, I pretty much gave them their space and they gave me mine. But something happened with this one over the course of the past couple of months. I would sit at the computer and she would hop into my lap, purring and kneading, head rubbing my arm while she 'groomed' me with her tongue.

What started as a desire to have something to take care of quickly blossomed into a full blown love affair, with toys and bedding, and scratching poles, and, well, you know what I mean. Only the best kitten food and kitten treats, the little hurried pattering of her feet when I shake the Whiska's treat bag making me giggle because I've never seen anything move so fast. Her constant presence and her desire to be loved and to give love in return has so endeared her to me, that were something to happen to her, I don't know what I'd do. Scratch that, meow, because I now know that I would become incoherently panicked.

I was awoken this morning to the sound of mewling. Not her usual amiable "Hey wake up and feed me" sound, but an insistent, frightened meowing that caused me to bolt upright.

Wondering what she could have gotten herself into since the entire house is child proofed again, she flew past my feet flinging her head back and forth as though possessed. Trying to catch her proved a job in itself, and I felt the panic begin to rise as I realized that something was really wrong.

Finally scooping her up, I held her tight as she was trying desperately to escape, I saw at once that her tiny little nose was all wet, and that she had something sticking to it. While trying to get a closer look and touch it, she tried to claw her way out of my arms, and it took considerable effort to keep my grip on her. It was a stinger I realized, and wandered with her to see where she had been. Going to her favorite perch in

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