When I was about 16, I was hunting for grouse & pheasants one day.
As I approached a small stream, looking for an easy crossing, I spotted a raccoon which seemed to be stuck in a fork of a branch about three feet underwater.
I grabbed a long stick that was laying nearby and pushed the raccoon free. Then with a hooked piece of the branch I drug him on shore.
He was a gnarly old coon, and had lost many of his teeth, which I could plainly see as he was snarling at me.
I backed off from him, and he calmly walked back into the stream, lodging himself once again in that fork of the submerged branch.
As I watched, he drowned himself.
Even that raccoon knew that death was far better than the suffering he was going through.
When I get old, I want to sit around telling wild stories like that one. I’ll add it to my collection. Thanks.