It could have been worse.
When I first moved into my house in 2004, the previous owners had left a very large, very feral tomcat behind. It was incredibly antisocial, but we continued to leave food out for it. That summer, we adopted another cat. Well, this big tom took to beating up our new cat on a nightly basis. So over the next couple of weeks, I made several attempts to catch it and put it outside. Failed every time. Finally, I got hold of it one day, but when that thing started tearing up my arms with all of it's LARGE claws and biting me, I had to let go. It shot downstairs and into the laundry room, where it got up into the ceiling. So I put food and water in that room and closed the doors. three days passed, and it hadn't come down yet. At this point, I began to worry that it would die up there and I'd have to tear apart the basement ceiling to get it out. I tried to drive it out with smoke bombs, which didn't work at all. Then I tried to snare it, but there was simply no way-the cat's body took up all the space between the joists. So I cut a small piece of drywall out at the very back of the section between floor joists where the cat was hiding. I could see it with a mirror, but there was no way to access it without destroying my basement. I tried using blanks to drive it out with noise, but that didn't work either. I got the idea that we would get it to face away from the hole I had cut, and I'd shoot it in the butt with a .22 Shotshell. After all, those shotshells should little more than sting from 12 feet away. So we got it turned the right way, and I stuck my revolver up into the hole. BANG! The cat shot out of there and into a corner, where I was able to retrieve it with thick leather gloves. At this point I discovered that the cat had turned around between the time my then-wife got it's attention and the time she got to a safe place and I pulled the trigger; The cat took those #12 pellets right to the face, severely damaging it's eyes. Knowing what I had to do, I took the injured cat out to the garage and went back inside to reload with .22 short hollowpoints. I went back out into the garage, where I found the cat crouching under my motorcycle and hissing like I've never heard. I leveled the revolver and fired from about 4 feet away, hitting it just below the ear. That cat shot out from under the bike and ran across the garage, where it jumped for a closed window and then fell to the ground. It got back up into the window and continued hissing and screaming, bleeding everywhere. So I grabbed it and got it back on the concrete, where I shot it in the head AGAIN. It ran back under the motorcycle, now obviously very damaged, but still alive. Four more bullets, and it ceased to move. Every round had fully penetrated the animal, you could see lead and blood splattered beneath where it had been.
We buried it, and if I'm ever forced to kill another cat, I'll be using more than a .22. That is one animal that does not die easily (or quietly).
So be glad that you didn't have to see that from this fox. I went from the intention of putting this cat outside where it could live out it's life to the reality of euthenasia-by-bullet gone horribly wrong.