An undertaking with Shakespeare - or the woman with two pussies

I may have mentioned before that Madame has a collection of abandoned or unwanted pets. When I first arrived she had a small dog (bitch) and a 12 year old cat. She then acquired a kitten which quickly matured into an attack cat. It would patrol the garden and chase off any amorous dog that came too close.
I was setting off to do my weekly shop two weeks ago to get to Leclerc just after it opened at 9am when Madame intercepted me to tell me that the attack cat had been run over and was dead.
I told her that as soon as I return from mes courses I would dig a grave for it in a corner of the lawn.
When I returned I took my shopping up the stairs to my apartment and started putting my shopping away. I was nearly finished when I heard Madame’s voice calling me from downstairs. I poked my head out of the window and told her that I was on my way.
It was a very hot morning. I got out my spade and headed off to my chosen spot. In about 15 minutes I had a deep enough hole and a puffy-eyed and sobbing Madame handed over one stiff cat covered in two sheets of newspaper.
The small dog sat on the grass watching the proceedings as I deposited the cat (fortunately I had made the grave big enough and did not have to saw any of the cats limbs off to make it fit) and I was able to fill in the hole with no delays. Of course I had chosen a spot with no shade, so I was a puddle of sweat by the time I trampled the earth down.
I had asked Madame if she wanted to shovel in the earth or say a few words, but she remained at the wall in the parking area.
Two days ago she acquired a “new” cat. It is black and about 3 years old and has been living on the streets since being abandoned. The staff at the SECU had been feeding it, but it had been sleeping rough, under cars etc.
So now there is a rather nervous cat about the place. It won’t go near Madame’s new cat yet, and the small dog is being looked after by a neighbour until the cat has a chance to come to grips with sleeping in a house etc.
His name is Romeo, so I now have to put up with Ro-Ro, Ro-Ro! drifting up to my eerie.
It has no collar yet, has not been to the vet and rubs its ears vigorously against objects. I have tentatively suggested that it might have an ear problem to Madame. ….