Part of me says, no fuck that. If I'm goin' down, Imma get down in that muck and sling that shit in their eyes. Then Imma bite at least one of their testicles off. Last egg before it's lights out for good! Teach you fuckin' dogs to mess with mustelids! Gloria Erminea!
But then another part of me realizes, the dogs don't know what they're doing. They're being used by people who don't really know what they're doing. If I know there's no way out, I should accept my fate with peaceful composure. Turn and look death in the eye. Welcome him as a long-lost friend.
Anyway, there's a lot of lore surrounding stoats and weasels. People dream up some crazy stuff! I kinda like the Irish take:>In Irish mythology, stoats were viewed anthropomorphically as animals with families, which held rituals for their dead. They were also viewed as noxious animals prone to thieving, and their saliva was said to be able to poison a grown man. To encounter a stoat when setting out for a journey was considered bad luck, but one could avert this by greeting the stoat as a neighbour.
My takeaway is, if you're neighborly, even to the lowly stoat, things will turn out okay.>>3703097