Moral dilemma. I fracking hate rats. Seriously. Nothing will reduce me to a quivering blob of hysteria faster than an uninvited house guest named Rattus rattus. But I really hate it when cats "play" with their prey. I know, I know, this is not abnormal cat behavior but it still bugs me.
Oscar and I shooed Eddie away from the mini-rat and I asked Oscar to put it out of its misery (because I assumed it was injured and because being within two feet of said rodents gives me the heebie-jeebies), but Oscar was vacillating so I shot him a nasty look, walked over to the side yard to get a cinder block, walked back, and actually told him that apparently I was the only one that actually had any balls and prepared to drop the cinder block on mini-rat. Oscar stopped me and said I'd have better chance of success if the rat was on a solid surface instead of on the lawn. He had a good point (the whole point was to kill it quickly and end its suffering, not to botch the job and make it worse).
I put the cinder block on the lawn and Oscar picked up the mini-rat (its body wasn't even an inch long) and positioned on the surface, and I hefted another cinder block to decrease the world's rat population by one...and then we realized the rat wasn't actually injured.
As much as I hate rats, really really really hate them, I couldn't kill it just because I hate the species. So I let it go.
Fracking rat bastard.