It wasn’t the heater fan going dodgy. It was some poor rodent Damien crippled and brought in the house. Bigger than a mouse, smaller than a rat…more woodland creature than filthy vermin. Black button eyes, shiny with fear. Cute. Disney. Fuck.
Damien apparently did bad things to its spine, then laid it outside the bathroom door, moved six feet across the landing, tucked his paws under himself neatly, and studied the screaming, crippled animal with great delight. I hoped he would seal the deal, but cats are not deal sealers. They’re connoiseurs of small animal pain. I couldn’t stand the sound.
I threw a shop rag over it and picked it up. It jumped and jived and made terrified noises. “Hush up now…you’re okay. I’ve got you.” I said, “I’m going to kill you so’s it doesn’t hurt hardly at all.” The comfort of weasels.
I took it outside and put it on the concrete walkway. Quickest and cleanest would be to crush its head under my heel, but I am barefoot. And a pussy. The skull is definitely the vulnerable part, anyhow, so I smack its head with my flashlight. It goes still. Then it begins to kick vigorously with its back legs. Goddamned stupid rubberized flashlight.
I don’t believe how many times I have to hit it before it stops moving. Surely it was dead long before it was still. How come they never die with their eyes closed?
I hope it rains soon. I’m going to have to go out the back door and face that asterisk of blood every morning until it does. I hated doing that. I like rodents.
Reminds me of the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been loads of things more tragic, more important…but this is one is teh nasty. Let me share it with you.
Baby bunnies. We had a whole litter of baby bunnies. They outgrew the cage we kept them in. Do you know what bunnies do when they’re overcrowded? The go cannibal.
I’m going to let you imagine what that looks like.