It’s just a rabbit. There are millions of them. It was a living thing, living out its life, just like me. It was imposing upon nothing and no one. To determine if I still had decent aim, I murdered a rabbit. Why not a coffee can? While I am still not completely content with this forthcoming rationalization, the best thing I could think of was that after I placed the carcass on the edge of a line of trees, it was gone by the next morning. Some animal came across a lucky find, had a nice dinner, and nothing went to waste.