And when the moments come

We were sitting, well, to put it correctly, THEY were sitting (or rather laying) in the hammock while I pushed them back and forth. Our feet were bare, though it did not matter to them. I could feel the brazen husks of the hickory nuts beneath my feet with each cautious step I took, and the mosquitoes were having a hay-day on my flesh, biting at every opportunity. I took time to roll down the sleeves of my white button-up shirt, and rolled down the legs of my pants. The 'squitoes still bit my ears, forehead, feet, and fingers as I swatted at them. They were carelessly chatting about nothing in particular and I was lazily swinging them when all of a sudden I heard a THUD. Out of the corner of my eye to my left I saw motion of something falling and I thought perhaps it was a large stick from atop the very large trees. But I saw something squirm in the grass...stagger up and fall back down in silent agony. I realized that it was a squirrel and I rushed over in less than seconds, and scooped its head in my hands to keep its head up for it to breathe. Sara and Anne gathered around me and then they scurried away while barking things at each other...I don't know what they were saying. I examined the little creature's backbone and determined that its back was not broken, its legs were well in tact, and then I noticed it was peeing uncontrollably and its little eyes showed utter agony and pain as the poor thing struggled to get air. I knew as soon as I'd heard its spluttered and labored breath that it had fatally punctured a lung and that all I could do was to pet it and whisper to it until its last breath was spent. I am not going to lie and say that it did not cut my heart to the quick: to helplessly sit there and watch its painful breath depart from it slowly as it choked on its own with each inhalation and to see confusion and reluctance to give into the welcoming hand of death...he fought against it...he did not go down without a fight.
I held him, lifeless as he was curled up in my hands, as Anne dug a grave with the garden shovel, and we laid him to rest. Finally to see him out of his misery was one of the greatest reliefs I have felt in a long time. I know I do not mind death in and of itself. Death is a natural part of life, and this I have come to terms with and am fine with. But to sit by and watch as any creature takes its last moments in utter misery are just about more than I can bear...I shed a tear, I must confess. But as soon as he took his last breath, and I felt his heartbeat cease, and his eyes finally give in, I felt my own breath return to me and I realized that I had held my breath as he lost his. We have buried him and he will feed the earth now and help to make the garden rich and full of the nutrients that he is no longer utilizing. Though the "thud" sound he made as he hit the dirt when he fell keeps playing through my head like a broken record, I am glad he is no longer suffering. My life goes on, and the adventures, good and bad, continue on...