Collin tried to pick up the wooden box in his hands. He felt the dull pangs of arthritic fingers and set the box back down on his desk. He let out a deep sigh, looking at the box. How would he get it out to the yard next to the rectory, so he could say a few prayers for Ruby and bury her?
“Monsignor Doherty,” he heard from behind him. He’d forgotten, he left his office door open – which he always did, when school was in session. Anthony Balfiglio stood in front of him. Again. Collin wondered what the little heathen had done now. He glared at the boy, always a challenge to him, especially now when his cat had just died.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, Father Collin. Sister Lucy sent me for twenty notebooks.”
“Anthony,” he said, deciding to give the eleven-year old chance to help. He was tall for his age. “My cat has just died and I need to bury her in the yard behind the rectory. Would you help me carry the box outside?”
“Yes, Monsignor Doherty, but Sister Lucy will be mad if I don’t go right back to class.”
“I shall explain it to her, young man, and she will understand. Is it agreed, then?” Collin thought about Ruby, twenty years of companionship, gone in the flash of a second. “The love of a pet, Anthony, is a very tender thing. I loved my pussy more than anything. Why –“
The boy turned around and ran back to his classroom. “Anthony, come back here, let me clarify –“
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