Outside they are burying the ashes of a cat in the garden. "A cat named cat," Bill tells me. It's sunny and the they stand in a circle while the priest, in an alb and white chausible, leans over the hole they have dug near the church. All of them have gray hair, and wind blows it up a little while they pray. "She was very sad about her cat," the priest tells me.
Does a cat really need a burial? I don't know, but sometimes you need to bury your cat.