It didn't have AIDS or anything (though it might have). It was fucked. He had a bad accident and wasn't getting any better.
I found it outside my door of my apartment when I lived in Luxembourg. It was lying on its back with its wee feet in the air, the beak opening and closing weakly. He was on his way out. He broke my heart.
Tina was there too. We were coming back from the shops, we'd bought a load of lovely things from Auchan. Tina was mightily impressed by the cheese counter.
We were coming up to the door, and saw the wee sparrow there on the ground. He must have flew into the door.
Poor wee bastard.
We looked at him for a bit, and went on up the stairs.
I felt bad, though. He is just a sparrow, it couldn't have been much fun.
It was my duty to alleviate his suffering.
I went downstairs with a plastic bag, and picked him up with my hand inside the bag. I didn't want to touch him with my bare hands.
I turned the bag inside out, removed my hand from it and let the wee bird fall into the bag.
I filled the bag full of water from an outhouse tap and drowned him, and threw the bag in the bin afterward.
It was one of the kindest acts I've ever performed.
I made rabbit stew that night, and remember most being disappointed by the amount of bones in the rabbit.
Too many bones in rabbit. I haven't eaten it since.
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