If your cat should catch a baby rabbit straight out of the stop, LET IT FINISH THE JOB. By 'rescuing' it you are subjecting the rabbit (and those unfortunate enough to try and save the wretched thing) to a lot of stress.
I saw a car hit a bird once. I guess the bird had a damaged wing, 'cause it was just sort of flopping about the road. [sigh] I saw it in the middle of the road, and the car that hit it without even attempting to swerve [and it had plenty of road to do so]. I felt so badly that--in total disreguard of proper hygene, I know--I parked, picked up the now dying bird and carried it over to a nearby tree. Laid it down, drove off. Mm. It's stupid, I guess... but I knew nothing could save it and I didn't want any cars flattening its corpse. I prefered that ants eat it. Which was hard to stomach, but better than the bird becoming a pile of putrid feathers for weeks on end [the bastards who clean roads don't pick up roadkill; it rots to the point of looking like a pile of dried leather and scattered bones].
It gets to me. And I'm in a kinda shitty emotional mood right now [PMS and alla that crap], so I guess that's why this is working so much on me, but, yeah.
no subject
If your cat should catch a baby rabbit straight out of the stop, LET IT FINISH THE JOB. By 'rescuing' it you are subjecting the rabbit (and those unfortunate enough to try and save the wretched thing) to a lot of stress.
I saw a car hit a bird once. I guess the bird had a damaged wing, 'cause it was just sort of flopping about the road. [sigh] I saw it in the middle of the road, and the car that hit it without even attempting to swerve [and it had plenty of road to do so]. I felt so badly that--in total disreguard of proper hygene, I know--I parked, picked up the now dying bird and carried it over to a nearby tree. Laid it down, drove off. Mm. It's stupid, I guess... but I knew nothing could save it and I didn't want any cars flattening its corpse. I prefered that ants eat it. Which was hard to stomach, but better than the bird becoming a pile of putrid feathers for weeks on end [the bastards who clean roads don't pick up roadkill; it rots to the point of looking like a pile of dried leather and scattered bones].
It gets to me. And I'm in a kinda shitty emotional mood right now [PMS and alla that crap], so I guess that's why this is working so much on me, but, yeah.
Anyway.
Huzzah for no Slay.