a viking funreal

A Viking Funereal

My cat, originally called Satan since it was black, but
re-christened to Odin after my wife, who’s from Kinshasa,
objected, I found - on the terrace one afternoon - dead;
some sort of pest I supposed. When my wife came home
it was dark she wasn’t feeling well and went to bed.
I had a good fire going in the hearth and put the cat there;
“I smell burning hair” she hollered from the bedroom.
“Yes dear, I’ve been cleaning the cat’s bed plenty of hair.”
In the morning as I was cleaning the fireplace of ash and
tiny bones, she wondered where the cat was. “Probably eaten
by foxes, many have been seen lately in the vicinity, wildlife
is moving into towns now” I learnedly said. Meow, “so there
you are” she said as Odin, the cat, jumped up and sat on her
lap, purred, looking triumphantly at me.