“Aw!” and “Sad!” are just a few things you may hear echoing through your head in response to hearing this fox is scheduled to be put down tomorrow. Swiper no more swiping, forever! This fox will be dead tomorrow and will no longer be able to steal your personal items.
Look at his small little thieving eyes. Do you feel relief at his death or perhaps the sadness that accompanies guilt? Were your stolen items really that important that you think this fox should be put down tomorrow?
Think about it: This fox probably has a family and a home. What will his children do if he does not come home with dinner? Will you let them starve? Do those who steal to survive deserve this punishment?
“Fuck!” you think. Maybe you should save this fox - rescue him from the pound and reprieve him. His fate for this purloin was not yours to decide.
In the cold dawn, you approach. The fox is inside right now, hating you and your punitive purism. There is stillness in the hours before a death you have determined.
When you enter you find him.
“Fox!” You yell. No response. “Fox!” Mania threatens to overcome you. Your entire body begins to shake.
The fox does not stir. Too late! You lost!