Amie's wedding day dawned bright and warm, and I had to rouse myself from the sunny spot on the armchair by the window to get over there on time. We were all changing together at her house, and I really should have known. I mean, it started out all right. Amie was all excited, of course she was, even before she cracked open a bottle of bubbly to "get us in the mood." Trouble was, once we started getting our kit off to change, what with the alcohol and all I was more than in the mood. And then there was Belle in her lacy stockings and push-up basque -- I didn't need her startled look to know I needed to go and compose myself.

So I ran into Amie's box bedroom in my boring cotton underwear and I tried to think calming, and unsexy, and above all, human thoughts.

But then the door opened, and Belle walked in, still in her lovely undies. "Don't look at me!" I wailed, because who wants the girl of their dreams to see them all hairy? Not to mention the ... other thing. Even sensible cotton underwear can only hide so much. But she just kept coming, and then I felt her stroke my hair, again and again, and it was so soothing I just forgot myself and leant into her.

"Oh, Kat," Belle said softly, cuddling me. "I wish ..." She scratched my chin, and I nuzzled into her touch even though it tickled my whiskers, and tried to summon the nerve to put my arms around her. Then again, it'd be a shame if I snagged any of that pretty lace.

"Wish what?" I wanted to say, but it came out as, "Mraow?"