I've got the head of a small black bear, hardly larger than a cat, in a pan of shallow water, as if to cook it. It is long, as though a large section of the neck is still attached, fitting perfectly into the oblong pan, chin down in the water. There is no blood or gore, only wet black fur and the bear's face.

The bear opens his mouth weakly as if to make one bleating cry, and first I push him down into the water to mercifully drown him out of his misery. But then I realize that he has no lungs with which to breathe anyway, and is already drowning.