What would have been sick would have been to let them continuing on in the manner they were. After the first generation...they became ever more feral(that means, ass wild). Every time we would go outside they would scatter...most of them would...some would show their teeth and hiss. They were not pets.

We began finding litters of kittens...dead...Skeletonized litters of kittens. Here, there, and everywhere. They could not or would not feed their babies. Every few months enough would survive until the population had gone from original mama to 13 in a little over a year.

They could have, I suppose, been trapped and taken to the euthanasia center AKA "The Animal Shelter" where they would have been slowly gassed to death with carbon monoxide after waiting three days to see if anyone wanted to take them. Nobody would take a feral cat that would cause you to draw back a hamburgerized nub that used to be your hand had you tried catch and hold it.

So, I ask, garbanzo bean brain, which was more humane...a quick sure death with a bullet to the head, or a slow agonizing gassing death after being exposed to the trauma of trapping and transportation?

On one hand...cat is like...chit, I'm in a box...what the F...they're hauling me off to some strange place...whuut? why can't I breath? I'm dying...dying...dying...oh the humanity.

On the other hand...cat is walking along in it's on hood...whistling a tune, singing a song, wonder who it was either going to poink next or who was going to poink it next...life is goo...zap. Whuut? Hey there cat god, where's the fresh fish.

You dumb ass.