My Furry Friday doesn't like mousetraps. This little baby wasn't much bigger than the last digit of my thumb.
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Yeah, his foot is on backwards. And terribly swollen and infected. Maybe it wasn't a mousetrap. It might have been a towmotor.

I saw him in the warehouse at work but couldn't catch him and later Mike, who's a cool guy, brought him to me in a box lid.

He died just as I got him to my wildlife rehabber friend Janine. We don't think he could have been fixed anyway. He was emaciated and, even after he died, his foot didn't want to swing around the right way, meaning it had probably partially healed... backwards.

He probably went through a lot of pain before he died, but he's free of it now.

On the funny side, people at work are now probably sure I'm nuts. I sat in my cubicle for a while reassuring the wee fellow before I realized people must have thought I was talking to myself after a rough day: "It's okay, little guy... You'll make it... You'll be okay."