That poor black panda was just wimpering away at the bottom of the garden... I could hear his moan's all night. Then the neighbours started to complain about the noise thinking I was keeping the Hound of the Magill's under that cover... Then the incontanance started and the next door got fed up with him forgetting what garden was his and parking in the wrong spot and marking his turf with castol GTX so it was a tough choice but I looked alan in the eye one night as i loaded the shotgun and headed to the woodshed with the little un. Alan stood at the back door with the hurrican lamp and I could see tears in his eyes as the wind and rain howled round the house. The Poor wee panda had that look in his headlamps that he knew his time was up and his last remaining wing mirror drooped over at a sad angle... Funny old things, they always know when your about to take them for their last outing
It was difficult but he would of thanked me for it in the end and he's in a better place now (well, most of him is actually in Sylvia

)
Jim