In our last village, there was a beautiful bright orange fox who would stroll past our patio doors mid-morning (he obviously wasn't nocturnal!) nearly every day, gaze into our sitting room and stroll off again. (Our large garden was surrounded by fields, with no fences) He truly was magnificent, and very big.
I grew to love the sight of him, and the thought of his being torn to pieces in terror and agony breaks my heart.

There are also 'urban foxes' nearer to Norwich (I've seen them often in Catton for example) rooting through bins and hunting rats etc. They have young cubs trotting beside them at this time of year. And they get killed on the roads. But I presume it's instantaneous.

I wouldn't say I was overly sentimental, but wildlife has always been a great joy to me. It costs nothing to be humane and compassionate.

(Except big hairy spiders...!)