Murder? Childish? Huh? When our beloved pets are near the end of thier days, we do the humane thing, no matter how difficult, and allow them to move on sans pain.
My very first joystick was a MS Sidewinder. The stick was nothing fancy, but some pets are not fancy at all and you still grow to love em.
We had many fine times together. But then I started noticing things. Skips in the rhythm, stalls in the reaction. I knew it was getting old. Time was running out for my friend. Why is it they never last as long as we do?
One day, in the middle of a fight, the unbelievable happened. It did not return to center. It did not move at all. Locked in a death grip it just sat there. I could see it was time. And I was so close to that kill.
I did the only humane thing I could. I picked it up off the table and slammed it into the sheetrock of a wall in my home office and walked away.
A few days passed. My Wife asks when I was going to fix the wall. She never gives me much trouble about things of this nature. So, out of respect for my departed buddy. I spent a few hours in the garage.
My Wife was sitting in the living room, hearing me with a hammer in the home office, got worried. She walks in, and I look at her and report, "There, fixed."
I had made a wood frame and put it up on the wall around my departed buddy.