"Esther," Jane's voice, somewhat obscured by the eating of the promised apple, came through the open window, "are you sure about Timothy being in the Happy Hunting Grounds?"
"Of course, dear."
"But he wasn't what you would call a Christian, Esther?"
"He was a good dog."
"Can Timothy chase chickens there?"
"Probably."
"And cats?"
"Certainly cats."
"Is that what happens to bad cats when they die?"
Esther viewed this logical picture of everlastingly pursued cats with some dismay.