I thought about putting it in the trash can but couldn't. I got the shovel, dug a grave, made a soft bed in the bottom of it with loose dirt, got the little fella down there on a side, and gently covered him/her up with dirt. I stuck a little stick in the loose earth above the body, stood there next to the ferns with my hands on the shovel handle, and said a few words.
I was aware that I was feeling compelled to enact a human ritual of respect for life, bespeaking such respect. I was aware that that was what was happening, and that was what I did. I also knew I wasn't going to have any great words for the squirrel, who seemed so ripped off, dying young like that, from whatever mysterious thing felled the little fellow creature. And I did it anyway.