Was just doing my "hero-of-the-hour" impersonation: removing a mouse (and his trap) from my sister's room upstairs. Was a bit weird though because this one was still very much alive (they're normally pretty stiff by the time I get to them). Was quite sad watching the little guy struggling. He was pretty prone until I poked the trap, and then he began a feeble attempt to leg it - pretty hard when said back legs are trapped in the jaws of a big plastic monster. Don't get me wrong: mouse in house is not good Ever (capital E). But I was a bit sad all the same - couldn't bring myself to put him out of his misery, so just picked him up gingerly, placed him on a plank and transported him to the bin outside. I sure there's a deep metaphor for something here, but I just found it all a bit melancholy.