Birgitta the Nun

Part 46 - The Cat

At last the wizard remembered they had errands to run—they had things to do, business to take care of. She shook the nun out of her somber expression and declared:

"Now, let's visit poor Sunshine."

"Excuse me?" Birgitta didn't follow.

"Sunshine, the cat," the wizard offered a broad smile. "Her name was Sunshine—you see, I do as I promise, and now we'll pay our respects to the cat."

"Oh—I see. Sunshine—" Birgitta brightened up. "So that's her name, is it? It's a good name."

"Yes it is," Charlie replied and took the lead. "This way."

They crossed the path the procession had made and stepped on a veil of flowers. The commotion around the funeral had subsided, and the churchyard had gone back to sleep. The doves had resettled on the gravestones, the bees hid among the flowers, and the insects crawled back to where they came from.

"I'll show you the small cemetery," Charlie called over her shoulder as she skirted a straight line of pretty-looking graves.

"The gnome cemetery?" Birgitta asked, trudging behind the wizard.

"No, you idiot, the pet-cemetery."

"A pet-cemetery?" Birgitta hesitated, "What's that supposed to mean? But the cats—" she broke off, not wanting to touch the horrid idea. "But the cats," she repeated. "Do they have to get along with the dogs? That's outrageous."

"And the fish and the rabbits." Charlie filled in.

"And the gnomes?"

"The have the same cemetery as you do."

"Well, gnomes are alright. But dogs—I don't know if I can tolerate that. They should have their own cemetery, as far away from cats as possible."

"You have funny ideas for being a nun."

"Perhaps—but you have NO idea for being a wizard."

"Here we go again," Charlie groaned. "Forget I told you anything—let's pretend it's a cat-cemetery—please, I beg of you."

"Very well—" Birgitta cleared her throat. "Let's say hello to Sunshine."

She dropped the matter. Dogs were good animals as well, and one shouldn't put the one before the other. But still—cats really should be left alone. They may seem tough on the outside, but deep down they're incredibly sensitive. And irritable—surely, this would go even beyond the grave?

They took a left after passing a small chapel and then a right, to embark on a new path across the well-mown lawn, when something snapped under Birgitta's foot. The sound of a bone breaking reached their ears. The wizard stopped. Birgitta bent down to pick up a twig broken in two. She offered a grin as she held it before the wizard. Charlie shuddered. They continued their journey.

"So what's your cat's name?" Charlie asked, still in the lead. "You never told me."

"Mittens," Birgitta murmured.

"What's that, dear Birgitta?" the wizard turned her head slightly to catch Birgitta's words.

"Mittens—" Birgitta repeated between her teeth.

"Oh—alright," the wizard caught on. "Mittens is a good name—safe and sound for a very special cat." The wizard nodded to her self and tried her hardest to accept the overly-common name.

"That's right," Birgitta muttered. "You keep your opinions to yourself."

"Alright," the wizard repeated. "I like that name. What made you choose it?"