Saw Kanga today. We agreed something is up with Pooh. His obsession with honey has been over the top lately. He can’t even get through an entire conversation without asking about “lunch.” I’m starting to think he might have a problem.
Today Pooh and I went for a walk and I was relating to him an elaborate adventure. Suddenly I realized he wasn’t beside me. I looked back to find him standing a few yards back, staring straight ahead. “Pooh, hurry up,” I called. He snapped to attention, looking confused. “Did you say ‘honey up’?” he asked. I shook my head. Silly old bear.
Yesterday, Pooh got stuck in Rabbit’s hole. We all had to push him out—and afterwards, he asked when “lunch” was. It’s like he doesn’t even realize all this honey has made him morbidly obese. “Pooh,” I asked, “are you doing your stoutness exercises?” He assured me he was, but we all know Pooh’s “exercise” consists of reaching down once to touch his toes and then walking to the pantry to refill the honey pot.
Pooh seems to be spiraling into a depression. I have told him under no circumstances is he to be hanging out with Eeyore. The last thing he needs is a “nothing-matters, so-I-might-as-well-eat-honey” attitude.
This week has been very distressing. Pooh went missing for two days. I finally found him roaming around the Hundred Acre Wood wearing just his shirt—which barely fits over his belly anymore—and no pants. When I inquired about the pants, he claimed he “forgot to put them on.” He was shaking and disoriented and his fur was sticky. I took him home and told him to lay off the honey.
Kanga says she doesn’t want him around Roo anymore. He’s too unpredictable.
Our worst fears have come true. Pooh tried to sell Tigger for honey. Tigger had no idea what was happening, but managed to bounce away while Pooh was digging in a tree stump, looking for a fix. Something has to be done.
Good news: This weekend, Pooh agreed to go to rehab!
Pooh’s first day of rehab was a disaster. He showed up to rehab wearing no pants (again), and wouldn’t stop asking when “lunch” was. “Lunch,” of course, means honey. It always means honey!
I don’t know how much longer I can take this toxic friendship. What happened? Has fame has taken its toll on Pooh? It must be surreal to see oneself everywhere—on children’s clothing and home décor and lawn sculptures. Maybe he can’t take it. Having your face on a diaper is a lot of pressure.
Pooh has been to rehab every day this week and is doing a modified version of his stoutness exercises. He’s been trying to repair his fractured relationships with all of us. Tigger has carried on as if nothing has happened, but for others of us, only time will tell.
Editor’s Note: These excerpts have been heavily edited to correct Christopher Robin’s abysmal spelling.