The continuing exploits of Mr. Finnegan as he conquers the world with his cuteness.

Now that I am 10 months old I would like to share some of my observations, collected over a lifetime.

Aloha!

Mostly, my advice is to enjoy the ride.

Wandering the meandering pathways through the dark jungles of the wild I stumbled upon a creature both curious and magnificent. It was shaped as a fur-covered log, but with four appendages protruding upwards as if grasping for the sky. The creature had no true face, as far as could be seen, but appeared to be a vast mound of white fluff framed by the four arms, if I may call them such, also adorned by additional luxuriant growths of hair. This broad expanse of fur seemed to call to me with each sudden flailing from one side to the other: “Sink your hands in my furry belly and give it a good pat”.

Fur covered beast

It was then that I saw the head and recognition swept over me. This mysterious beast, this flailing mound of fur, was none other than Miss Maisy Day, the One True Dog. She is often spoken about only in whispers, the stuff of myth and legend – and here she was before me!

It was then that I spied the giant squirrel.

As oft happens on my adventures one chance encounter with extraordinary circumstances follows fast on the heels of another. And here I found myself suddenly confronted with a squirrel of such enormous proportions I can only ascribe to it the sobriquet of “Ginormous”.

Fie! Squirrel!

The giant squirrel and I did battle for many days and many nights. The jungle echoed with the sounds of our war cries and the clash of weapons. When the dust had settled a lone figure could be seen in the midst of a great smoldering crater – a small gentleman of generous proportions, regal yet elegant, with gentle mien faintly reminiscent of Baudelaire.

Finnegan Wilde triumphant!

The patient presents with acute cuteness and precocious adorableness. The specimen appears to be a healthy young male, human as far as can be told, and very much in the prime of life.

By God, Man! Is he not huggable!?

The Doctor will see you now.

Stats:

9 months old.

2′ 5.5″ (86%)

23 lb 5 oz (87%)

17.99 ” Head Circumference (62%)

(10^100)^(10^100) On the Finnegan Scale of Awesome (One Googleplex, as high as the scale currently measures).

Zoot Alores!

Dear Lord! I may have to dramatically tear these fake glasses from my head for emphasis!

As I approach the ripe old age of 9 months I have come to the realization that I must soon find my way in the world. A choice of occupation was soon my preoccupation, and a quick trip to the library was in order.

As I perused the aisles of books trying to ascertain what line of work best suited my talents I realized that the answer lay not in the contents of the books on the shelves but in the books themselves. BOOKS!

I have found my calling!

But then I found a delicious lens cap and soon discovered the world of professional photography.

A career in photography beckons

So many choices! I am afraid I must needs remain unemployed and at my leisure for a little while longer as I take stock of these weighty matters. I cannot dither too much longer as adulthood is surely just around the corner.

Thus I do entreat you, please you to entertain, an idea I press upon you, carrots mashed or strained.

Carrots I implore you, put them in my mouth, if a spoon should come in with them, I’ll eat it – have no doubt!

The spoon got too close to Carrot Face

This poem I haver writ, to tell you of my love, of sloppy messy carrots, in my mouth I beg you shove.

On my face I will display them, a badge of honor dear, and stew them in my belly, orange soup – nutritious cheer.

Carrots? Where have you gone?

Poems I have written, odes to carrots true, but can scarce suffice, to give my carrot’s due.

Penned this day of our Lord, All Carrot’s Hallo’d Eve, 2010.

Finnegan Wilde Kincaid