I’m an animal lover. That being said, there comes a time when one is faced with dealing with a dead one. Compared to my dove hunting, dead mouse and putting my sweet kitty Olive to sleep (more on that later when I can hopefully string more than two sentences about her together without bursting into tears), disposing of this dead squirrel at the dog park was actually fairly simple.
FIrst of all, it was frozen. Second, it wasn’t messy. Third, it was on a pile of leaves and debris, which made it easy to scoop up. Fourth, there were two shovels nearby (perfect for scooping!) and fifth, a big giant dumpster sat not six feat from the beast.
I figured a dead squirrel was something no dog owner wanted their pet to get into. So, in the spirit of Eleanor, I rolled up my sleeves. I asked a nearby guy if he could hold the dumpster open while I tossed the squirrel in. Based on his expression, I think he was surprised that the gal in Ugg boots and a puffy North Face jacket did the thing he considered doing when he entered the dog park… but did not (it was a few feet from the entrance; no way that you could miss it!). Scoop, drop, done.
I later recounted this story to my boss who scolded me for interacting with a dead city squirrel as they can be rife with disease. I figured since this dude was frozen and intact, I was probably safe. Maybe I should’ve been more scared after all.