Distinguished, ain't I?

I see a hapless little squirrel chasing its tail with hysterical speed bang in the middle of a driveway.
I go close, hoping to scurry it off to a safe corner. It doesn't budge.
I bend down, run my fingers over its delicate, smooth back. It becomes still. I take silence as assent.
I try to lift it, to move it to the grass, a safe haven.
In a split second of ferocious intensity, it bites my finger and blood spurts out. I lose the grip. I have to borrow tissues to staunch the oozing blood. When I turn back to look at my attacker, it's doing the same ridiculous stunt...before gradually coming to a final halt. A few seconds, and it's dead.
In coup de grace, an Innova runs over it.

The legacy comprises a nasty finger, one tetanus injection and 6-dose anti-rabies vaccine. Friends express concern - for the poor little thing that died after biting me.