Last night, while I was on the train trip from Hell, my cat found a young rabbit. My wife was home and managed to prevent the half-feral asshole from killing it in the house and put it in a quiet spot in the yard; hoping for the best.
This morning it was still breathbg.
She had to leave early but asked me to handle it. I tried giving it some water with a straw, and I didn’t see any obvious injury, but he laid there breathing hard.
So I put on my welding gloves and got a plastic grocery bag. I gently picked it up and cradled it in the bag until it stopped moving.
I am a monster. Hate me.
The real monsters are the ones who either hurt animals for fun, or hunt them but suck at it so now there’s an injured creature in the wild who will hurt until a predator manages to find them and end the suffering.
You did what you could with what you had. Sounds like it went as peacefully as possible. And for what it’s worth, it left maybe knowing someone was there with it trying to help. Probably not, but maybe.