To call it anything other than horrifying would be an understatement. I tried calling it cruelty, even neglect, but neither word seems to fit the situation.
It is where nightmares come alive, adding to those that already haunt the short hours of unrestful sleep.
As I walked into the woman’s yard, I saw the live capture cage in the grass near the sprinkler head. The water was on, spraying directly into the metal enclosure.
Unfortunately, the cage had a squirrel trapped inside it. The poor animal was dead, drown.
It had put up a violent struggle to save its life. Its claws were still gripping tight to the grating of the cage, its lips a pallid waxy gray, eyelids tightly closed but puffy, body stiff.
I can’t imagine dying in such a manner, but my night terrors will resolve this.