How I Ended Up with Blood on my Hands before 7am

So I'm headed to the gym, just like I do every morning, get in the car--out of gas.  Hmmm...do you ever have one of those days where subconsciously you want to consciously turn the car around, crawl back into bed, and just pray for a do-over?  Well that was the feeling I had, but hey, cars need gas to go.  I finish up, head down the highway to town and see this thing in the rode...cah-clump.  Oh no!  Pretty sure that was a dead deer in the road that I completely ran over.  So I stop and inspect for damage, call J and ask what to do.  He suggests going back to make sure it was dead. As I pull up beside it, I see its a fawn (a baby deer with the spots and everything), and then I see the momma and daddy deer looking at me like "you ran over my baby!"  Eeek!  As I am stopped, I see another car hit and drag it even farther.  Oh no.  I guess whoever hit it before me, didn't quite kill it--but I did.  So J says well, you could push it off to the side of the rode so it doesn't get drug around and people keep hitting it.  Ok--sure, I can do this.  Oh no I can't do it!  Oh yes I can!  So this little guy was still warm.  My heart was just breaking at this point.  Yes I understand the cycle of life and deer are wild animals, but this one was right in front of me and died a horrible death...not pleasant at 6:45 in the morning.  So I'm pushing it off the road and the little hairs and blood are getting all over my hands.  I'm not usually squeamish, but this a little too close to that breaking point.  The little guy goes over and I get back in my car--and where are the Lysol wipes--oh they're gone.  All the way to the gym with hairy bloody hands and a tear-streaked face...I'm sure I looked like a mass-murderer or something.