TGSR cont.

I figured that we needed to get on with the ceremony, such as it were, so I started out, "Dear Lord in Heaven . . ."

"Aw, chuck it, cheesebreath," said Joey. "It's a squirrel, not a person. It ain't Catholic, and it ain't goin' to heaven." Standing barefoot in the grass, Joey said these words with an intensity that was profound for someone his age;yet they were sad words, words of mourning.

"Listen," I replied, "If you want to . . . "

"Right, I'll do it," Joey responded. He gathered his thoughts for a moment as I, somewhat put off, stood by.

"Our animal father, who aren't in heaven, please take this squirrel to your home and treat him well. He never meant nobody no harm, and only our bad dog caused him to die. We're sorry, animal father." A tear trickled doen his cheek and his voice cracked. "We're sorry!"