To the squirrel who ate my hamburger...

It's been over four decades, but I've decided to finally forgive you.

When I was four, my mother took my sister and I to McDonald's, which at the time, was a big deal. My parents had only emigrated to the US from Cuba a few years earlier and money was still very tight. I hated catsup and mustard back then (I know, total brat) and my hamburgers had to be ordered "plain" which meant my mother had to wait the few extra minutes it took to cook it, etc. It was a beautiful sunny day, so we went outside to the few picnic tables in the back of the restaurant. The tables were surrounded by large trees. Which, of course, means there are rats with furry tails, I mean, squirrels in the vicinity. I swear, I only put my hamburger down for a couple of seconds while I ran off to play. Those couple of seconds were all it took for some giant meat-eating squirrel to come along and whisk my burger off. Right in front of my four-year-old eyes.

I learned a valuable lesson that day.

Never trust a squirrel.

So when my friend Terri sent me these pictures of Finnegan the Squirrel, I was extremely suspicious at first. Sure, Finnegan looks friendly enough. But then, who really knows what's inside a squirrel's heart? I kept going back to the pics, trying really hard not to smile. In the end, I gave up. Okay, maybe not ALL squirrels are bad. Maybe not even the squirrel who stole my hamburger that day so very long ago. Maybe he was just hungry.