Well, my dearest doge had her birthday just over a week ago. And I really meant to make some awesome picture-type tribute to post on the day-of. But then stuff happened, like illness and midterm millions, on top of the fact that I was having trouble thinking of something to draw that really felt right.
At the same time, My Mom and I had a little Winnie the Pooh revival where we read several of the original books by A. A. Milne. As we read, the interactions between Pooh and Piglet kept reminding me of my interactions with Madeleine--not that I see her as one and myself as the other, but the dynamic between the two really struck a chord with me.
So I typed up a few excerpts from some of the books to share with her and anyone else who may read this. It's not really what I expected to do for her birthday, but...
'But it isn't Easy,' said Pooh to himself. . . 'Because Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is to go where they can find you.'
Eeyore Finds the Wolery
...but this is what found me. It, in all its probable illegality, is dedicated to you, my doge.
Half-way between Pooh's house and Piglet's house was a Thoughtful Spot where they met sometimes when they had decided to go and see each other, and as it was warm and out of the wind they would sit down there for a little and wonder what they would do now that they had seen each other.
Piglet Does a Very Grand Thing
'[It's] a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung in the Snow.'
'Are you sure?' asked Piglet anxiously.
'Well, you'll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom--'
'Tiddely what?' said Piglet.
'Pom,' said Pooh. 'I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more--'
'Didn't you say snows?'
'Yes, but that was before.'
'Before the tiddely pom?'
'It was a different tiddely pom,' said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. 'I'll sing it to you properly and then you'll see.'
. . .
He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said:
'Pooh,' he said solemnly, 'it isn't the toes so much as the ears.'
A House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore
'Oh!' cried Christopher Robin, wondering whether to laugh or what.
'Just the house for Owl. Don't you think so, little Piglet?'
And then Piglet did a Noble Thing, and he did it in a sort of dream, while he was thinking of all the wonderful words Pooh had hummed about him.
'Yes, it's just the house for Owl,' he said grandly. 'And I hope he'll be very happy in it.' And then he gulped twice, because he had been very happy in it himself.
'What do you think, Christopher Robin?' asked Eeyore a little anxiously, feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Christopher Robin had a question to ask first, and he was wondering how to ask it.
'Well,' he said at last, 'it's a very nice house, and if your own house is blown down, you must go somewhere else, mustn't you, Piglet? What would you do, if your house was blown down?'
Before Piglet could think, Pooh answered for him.
'He'd come and live with me,' said Pooh, 'wouldn't you, Piglet?'
Piglet squeezed his paw.
'Thank you, Pooh,' he said, 'I should love to.'
Eeyore Finds the Wolery
Love dew.
