It was a very solemn, even ritual occasion. The body was laid out on a slab of wood, carefully transferred from the garden shovel. It must not touch the ground until the appointed time.

Headless, it lay there while the handmaidens gathered white crocuses and snowdrops, ruthlessly plundering the garden's spring display. Some green branches from the cypress trees and a couple of sprays of fern were also garnered from the nearby hedge.

The wooden slab was taken to the side of the house and held aloft by up one handmaiden while the high priestess herself carefully immersed the cypress branches in the water trough. The body was sprinkled - over and over again - while the handmaidens chanted a prayer which seemed to include supplications to most known deities and a few hitherto unknown ones.

Prayers over, the handmaidens proceeded in solemn procession to the foot of the big tree, chanting all the while. The body was placed in the prepared hole and earth was scattered over it. From a distance, the perpetrators of the crime watched - their bright eyes gleaming greenly in the shadow of the ditch.

The flowers were arranged and the sacred branches spread in a fanlike shape. Another chant arose. The time had come to put up the tomb inscription. A long piece of wood bore the simple word "Bronie".

And, suddenly the solemn spell was broken. The handmaidens and the high priestess reverted to their normal chattering 10-yearold state. "It was a great funeral." "We really enjoyed it." "Did you see the water bit?" "We had christened her Brownie but spelt it wrong but Bronie is even better."

"She was a lovely bird." "I think she was a sparrow." "No, she was a robin."

The cats, still skulking in the ditch, were in disgrace. "How could they?" "They didn't even want to eat her. They had their dinner earlier." Later, while walking among the crushed crocuses, I heard three shrill screams from inside the house. The girls were on top of the bunkbed, yelling their heads off. "It's a mouse! It's a mouse!"

Outside the open front door, the two cats sat grinning.

It had been a busy day, but this was their crowning moment. They had driven a tiny field mouse into the house and managed to upset the nasty children who had inexplicably stolen the remains of their morning snack and buried it.

Revenge was theirs. However, all good things must come to an end. Ginger decided to take possession of his plaything again - before it became another offering to the Gods. He pounced and the screams became even shriller. "He'll kill it!" "It's only tiny!" Once again, on a bright autumn day in Meath, murder was done. This time no funeral would be necessary, as Ginger decided he would eat all his dessert.