I’m sure it was pure adrenaline, because he was as light as a feather to me.

Dropping Sam at the edge of the porch, I immediately ran into the house, where Maggie had Layla on top of the dining room table, frantically checking her for stings.

“Jesus!” I said. “Call 911!”

“You do it, Jim. I’m shaking too hard I can barely stand up!”

“How’s Layla?” I said as I was dialing the phone.

“I can’t find a sting on her.”

Having directed the EMS to the farm, I ran back out to Sam, who was still unconscious. I checked for a pulse. Miraculously, he was still alive. I couldn’t count the number of welts on him. There were too many.

Maggie’s RN training kicked in. As she handed me Layla, she said, “We need to cover Sam with cool wet towels and get some Benadryl in him.” I looked at Maggie. She was oblivious to the angry red welts covering her face and arms.

Soon returning with wet towels and dissolved Benadryl in a cup, she covered Sam with the towels and then lifted his head and opened his mouth, pouring the Benadryl down his throat.