Returning gifts

One of the neighborhood animals was kind enough to leave me a gift of a dead squirrel at the foot of my front porch on Tuesday.  I noticed this as Jason and I were entering—classy.  (Jason is my boyfriend, and it is less clunky to say that than the phrase "my boyfriend.")  The gift was appreciated, but I'm afraid that I already have as many dead squirrels as I could possibly want, and have no real use for yet another one.  I have rubber gloves on hand (pun intended) for exactly this sort of situation, but I postponed dealing with it until the next morning.  The next morning I was running late for my appointment with my personal trainer, so I resolved to deal with it as soon as possible after exercise.  But then voilà; my problem resolved itself—the landscaping crew comes on Wednesdays, and they returned my gift for me.  I was not looking forward to picking that thing up and bagging it, or chucking it into the wetlands.