As a child I witnessed my cat stalking a bird. I thought it was cool and watched intrigued until the reality of what was about to happen hit me. As soon as I darted for my cat he darted for the bird. In a completely badass show of physical skill my cat pounced in one of those antigravity floating cat jumps, caught the bird with a claw or two, and brought it down. As soon as they hit the ground I was close enough to grab my cat with the squirming shrieking bird in his jaws. I did everything I could think of to get my cat to let go. I spanked him, (attempted) indian sunburned him, pulled his fur, pulled his tail, it wasn't until I squeezed my Capri sun in his face that he let go and ran a few feet away. Still tracking the bird he sat looking pissed off at what just happened. The bird was at this point flapping wildly around. The bouncing got my cat back on task, wiggling his butt ready to go back at it. Without thinking I put myself between my cat and the bird and attempted to catch it. Once I was able to hold it I realized it's head was twisted completely around and it's wing was broken. My heart sank as I became frantic thinking how I could help. I started to go get a blanket to put it on so it could rest but realized no rest would fix the birds broken neck. After a few minutes I decided the only thing I could do was end it's suffering. I got my cat inside, got a comfortable towel to lay the bird on, then went to get my BB gun. When I came back I was just laying there breathing heavily with its mouth open and some kind of foamy stuff coming out, eyes open. I panicked and knew I had to act quick, this was probably extremely painful. I pumped my BB gun as hard as my little arms could, lowered the barrel to its head, said sorry, then squeezed the trigger. Fucking didn't to shit other than cause it to flop around more! I was hysterically crying at this point because of my failure, panicked, afraid, and feeling every ounce of suffering that I was watching. In a last ditch effort I raised my foot up and stomped as hard as I could on the bird, swiftly and finally ending the tragedy. I cried for a good while, saying sorry, explaining what happened to the now dead bird. Then I went to our shed, got a hand shovel, dug it a nice hole, gave it a cloth wrapping and a marking stone and burried the little bird. When I got back to my front door I saw him, sitting there, smug. I opened the door and he walked out as though nothing happened. Sniffed around, rubbed on my leg, sat next to me as I continued to cry. I pet him a few times, told him I wasn't mad because he was just doing cat things then went inside. I later saw that asshole sitting next to the birds grave like he was showing off his work, or waiting for the bird to come back out. Worst experience ever.