Pooh came to me by way of a Free box near the Parkway Theatre.
I was having a crap-ass day and wasn’t looking forward to the movies, but I’d made a commitment to go, so I did, and I got semi-rockstar parking, call it roadie parking maybe, and I looked up, and there was Pooh peeking out of the Free box.
There wasn’t a lot of very good stuff in there, but Pooh was chillin’ like a villain. He was missing some stuffing but still had that thin black-line smile that Sears & Roebuck drew on his carpet-like tawny face. He had his jaunty red vest, too. You gotta admire that… Pooh gets by with a red vest and a smile, man, not even pants. That’s livin’ large.
So I scooped up Pooh and set him up in the back of my pickup truck, sort of leaning against the cab watchin’ the world go by. It was like he was saying “go with the flow, everything’s cool”, so I did. Turned out the Parkway made a great pizza that night and the movie wasn’t so bad and my friends are pretty nice, after all. When I came out, Pooh was still there, so we drove home.
The election thing happened, and I was walking around with a dark cloud, but every time I saw Pooh, whether he was slid over on his head from that hard right turn, or flat on his face, or hanging onto the groceries, I felt better. Pooh’s seen it all, you know? And he was still smiling even when he was out in the cold in a damn Free box. Pooh always puts it all in perspective.
When it started to rain, I pulled Pooh out of the pickup and got him a piece of wall in my parking garage. I have the top-most space in my building, and he was tucked in out of sight… only five or six other parkers would see him. I figured when the weather got more reliable, I’d take him on ride-alongs again, maybe with a little coffee table and a can of cream soda or something. Meanwhile, every day through the holiday blues, Pooh seemed to wave when I drove off to meet the world.
When I came back from the Christmas party, Pooh was gone. I’m pretty sure he didn’t get up the gumption to walk anywhere, so it’s got to be one of my neighbors who helped themselves to Pooh. Even though I could probably figure out who did it, I’m taking a philosophical approach to this and just understanding that somebody needs Pooh more than I do right now. He’s not anatomically correct, so no worries there. Maybe he was a last-minute Christmas gift or something, or maybe he’s cheering up some Tourette’s sufferer. Maybe Pooh is just a mysterious traveler, like Kane in that show Kung Fu. Maybe somebody thought, cool, now I finally have a friend for my slightly tattered Piglet.
Just one thing… you might want to pop Pooh in the microwave before you snuggle up too close. I don’t know all the places he’s been. Happy trails, Pooh. Thanks.