I understand why Pilate washed his hands

I don't like to kill things

I don't mind if something has to die so I can live. But meaningless death bothers me. It's even harder if I have to do it.

Dogs killed another deer today. Or near killed it. Dogs chasing the deer. Wife (and this time my daughter also) chasing the dogs. I followed them all. A small female deer running for her life. Smashing into the fence over and over as the dogs are either on her tail or at her throat. It's very dramatic and fast happening when you are trying to prevent it.

Deer jumps up and crashes one more time before we get the dogs under control. It lays there breathing. The women screaming.

I pull them back. Daughter stares and watches the doe dying for awhile. Comes back an excites the mom into hysteria and senseless guilt. More wailing and cries of pain.

I have to rid the living, still breathing, but dying animal.

Bringing a fold-out Gerber knife I bought as a kid and recently sharpened. Talking to a friend who calls and says, "hey how's it going?" I go to the deer to try and finish her off.

Cutting her throat repeatedly, it comes to semi-life and kicks to try and remember its former life of romp and pleasure.

Friend on the phone, says "... man, why are being short with me."... "Sorry, dude, .. I'm trying kill this deer ... it don't wanna die", I say.

(When we die, do we need that extra time to repent and think about the life we've lived. Does cutting someone's or something's throat steal away the few extra moments a creature might have to say goodbye. Or is it imaginary? Is it just a slow loss of consciousness?)

Wife and daughter are making peace with each other now. A shot of tequila for me. I don't like killing things.

The dogs still pant.

Blood is on the rocks where I dragged the deer to an open field in hopes of the buzzards soon to spot.

I don't like dying. I don't like death.

I don't like cutting the throat of a living creature to help it die.

I don't like dying in general.