The children had wrapped the cat in a dish towel and buried it in a shoebox with a flower between its paws. Graham rested his forearm on top of the fence and leaned his forehead against it. A pet funeral, solemn rite of childhood. Parents going back into the house, ashamed to pray. The children looking at one another, discovering new nerves in the place loss pierces. One bows her head, then they all do, the shovel taller than any of them. Afterward a discussion of whether or not the cat is in heaven with God and Jesus, and the children don’t shout for a while.
