If were daylight and I had the time, I confess I would dress it out and use it in a stew.

The Lard don't want any life to go to waste.

'Course, if it hadda been a Norway rat, I would'a been singin', suffer, MF'er before you die, and the Lard be damned. (Or mebbe the Lard damn ye.)

Sympathy does have it's atavistic limits, ya know? (As does appetite.)