Mercy Killing

Today I killed a mouse. I noticed him in the shed at one of my parks (breathing heavily, still, tiny and adorable and nearly perfect, caught only, I saw later on, by the toes on his right foot). I stalled. I questioned my logic (maybe he doesn't feel enough to merit a mercy killing? Why does this bother me so much? What would Tom Guthrie do?). I texted a friend who tried to make me feel better by comparing me, I think, to God. I filled up a bucket of water then went to my other park to grab the garbage picker-upper the better to maneuver with then moved the dewy-eyed beast into a shovel and into the water where I learned mice can swim. Just not for long dragging a trap with them and with a foot all broke to pieces.